Chaos and Community

I tune the radio to WLS, and the insistent voice of Tony Brown breaks me out of my trance. It’s Saturday, December 9, the day after a bitterly divided Florida Supreme Court stretched (and possibly broke) Florida law in order to allow a statewide recount of undervotes in the presidential election. My family and I are driving back to Rockford from Chicago’s Midway Airport, just hours before an equally divided U.S. Supreme Court will stop the recount in an activist decision more reminiscent of Earl Warren's reign as chief justice than William Rehnquist’s.

“The state of Florida is in chaos! Absolute chaos!” claims Brown, and his caller agrees: “I just saw a headline that reads, ‘Anarchy Reigns in Florida.’” That’s funny; we’ve just returned from a week in Orlando—or rather, Walt Disney World, that Never-Never-Land that bears about as much resemblance to Orlando as Washington, D.C., does to the rest of the country. I can’t say that I saw any anarchy or chaos; in fact, everything seemed perfectly scripted, right down to the airplanes and buses—which always arrived and departed on time—and the restaurants, which may have charged an arm and a leg but served their meals promptly and courteously. If this be chaos, let us make the most of it.

As Rockford draws closer, I’m hoping a bit of that Florida anarchy has rubbed off on my adopted hometown. When we left, our own recount was under way; with any luck, it created enough chaos that our streets have been properly plowed, which would be the first time in the six winters we’ve lived here.

Our contested election is for the 13th District seat on the Winnebago County Board. That may not seem nearly as exciting as the presidential recount, but it made a splash here in Rockford. As in the “important” election, the margin of victory was very small (45 votes), and the loser has asked for a hand recount because the counting machines appear to have classified some actual votes as undervotes. With Al Gore’s loss, the Democrats have effectively been frozen out of the presidency and both houses of Congress, but there’s a fair amount at stake here, too: If the election is reversed, one party will control three quarters of the seats on the county board, allowing it to impose its will even on issues where a supermajority is required. At the very least, that would mean local campaign contributors won’t have to spread their money around.

Our recount, however, has come at the request of William Peterson, the Republican incumbent who lost to Democratic challenger James Peterson. As you might expect, when the roles are reversed, the rhetoric is, too. The Democratic executive director of the Rockford Board of Elections, Nancy Strain, has told the local Gannett paper (LGP) that “Hand counts are never as accurate as the machines.” After a discovery recount of five of the 19 precincts in the district, she dismissed concerns that the number of ballots in two precincts didn’t match the reported totals. “There were a few ballots missing,” she said, “but that's because they’re in another box.”

Meanwhile, David Brown, the attorney for the Republican Peterson, sounds oddly like Gore attorney David Boies. “What we’re concerned about is the high number of undervotes and illegible votes that maybe weren’t picked up by the machines . . . What we want to make sure is that the will of the voter is followed,” he told the LCP. That wouldn’t mean counting chads—hanging, pregnant, or dimpled: Rockford has adopted a new optical-scanning system which combines the efficiency of a machine count with a much more secure paper trail than that left by our old punch-card system.

I know David Brown; he’s a good attorney and an even better man, and if he believes there are grounds for a hand recount, he’s probably right. I suspect, though, that there are any number of people in Florida who would say the same about Judge Charles Burton in Palm Beach County or his counterpart in Broward County. And that, in the end, is the point. If we truly want equal protection under the law, we’re not going to get it from black-robed state or federal justices relying on a skewed interpretation of an illegally passed constitutional amendment. True equal protection comes from living in a community where we may not know everyone, but we know someone who knows someone who does. David Brown undoubtedly wants to win this contest for his client, but he also has a stake in Rockford and Winnebago County. Both his life in this community and his character—formed in large part by that life—place limits on how far he will go.

That’s the reason why almost all states leave most of the details of elections—including federal ones—up to counties or local municipalities. The problem comes when outsiders—politicians, lawyers, even judges—view our communities merely as resources to be mined for votes. Does Al Gore or David Boies or the Florida Supreme Court really care about making sure that “all the voters are heard” in West Palm Beach? Of course not, but Charles Burton probably does, if only because they are the people among whom he lives and works. Who’s more likely to have the interests of the residents of Winnebago County Board District 13 at heart, David Brown or some hired gun from state or national Republican headquarters? There's no doubt in my mind.

The radio signal is breaking up as another caller tells Tony Brown that too few people realize that God reigns, not men. Brown heartily agrees, saying that he assumes this means the caller isn’t too concerned which man becomes president. Oh, no, the caller replies. “Its important that Bush win because of the Supreme Court. Without liberal activist judges, there would be no abortions in this country.”

I sigh as we exit I-90 onto the unplowed streets of Rockford. Chaos or no, it’s good to be home.

First published in the February 2001 issue of Chronicles: A Magazine of American Culture.

I've Got a Secret

Back in November and December, while Republicans across the country were writing letters, calling in to talk radio, and even taking to the streets to protest Al Gore's attempt to steal the election in Florida, their fellow party members in Rockford remained strangely silent. They must have found it disquieting when the Bush campaign kept insisting that machines are more accurate than humans. After all, it's been a staple of local Republican belief for almost 20 years that Rockford Democrats have manipulated computerized counting machines to steal at least three of the last five mayoral elections.

In theory, at least, it's possible. As James J. Condit argued in Chronicles four years ago ("A House Without Doors," Views, November 1996), the same technology that simplifies the process of counting votes also makes it much easier to steal an election. Since computerized counting is conducted at central locations, ballots must be moved, which means there's an opportunity to substitute pre-punched ballots for the ones voters actually used. If that fails, the counting machines' computers can be programmed to return the desired result.

While I have been a poll-watcher during one local election and have observed the vote counting after another, I've seen no evidence that local Democrats have actually tampered with either ballots or counting machines. But I am convinced of the truth of a related conspiracy theory: Most politicians in Rockford are heavily influenced by a small group of public contractors and real-estate developers. Their own campaign-finance disclosure statements on the Illinois Board of Elections website (www.elections.state.il.us) provide plenty of evidence.

But if everyone here in Rockford has heard that the last two mayors have simply been pawns of monied interests (and everyone has), then why have the Democrats won the last five mayoral elections in a city routinely described as Republican? The simple answer could be that local voters just don't care.

There may, however, be more at work here. When most people—in Rockford or elsewhere—hear the word "conspiracy," they think of a cabal aimed at overturning the will of the people. That's certainly the way popular literature, movies, and TV shows portray conspiracies. But if you were trying to gain power (or wealth) in the modern world, why would you set yourself against the people? It's much easier to present yourself as their champion. Give them what they want, and they will return the favor.

Both Dostoyevsky's Grand Inquisitor and the Cigarette-Smoking Man on The X-Files understood this. So, too, did the interests that backed Rockford Democratic mayoral candidate John McNamara in 1981. A blue-collar town heavily dependent on the aerospace industry, Rockford had been hit hard by the recession of the late 70's and early 80's. Unemployment was over 20 percent; factories were closing; new businesses weren't taking up the slack. Rockford was on its way to becoming a ghost town.

Helped along by the Reagan military buildup (which revitalized Rockford's industries), John McNamara gave the people what they wanted—economic recovery—while enriching his benefactors through a series of public-works projects (knocking down Rockford's historic buildings and erecting Soviet-style ones), tax breaks, and zoning changes that encouraged private development. By the time McNamara left office in 1989, Rockford's economy had not only rebounded but added a service sector (read: strip malls and chain restaurants). The public-works contractors and real-estate developers who had supported him were firmly entrenched, and he was able to handpick his successor: our current mayor. Democrat Charles Box. Box has nurtured the city's relationship with McNamara's benefactors, and McNamara himself became president of the parent company of the chief public-works contractor, Rockford Blacktop.

Because many of us don't like the intimate connection between Rockford Blacktop and our city government, we often forget that most people in Winnebago County don't mind as long as the roads that Blacktop builds make it easier for them to drive from the vinyl-sided ranch houses they bought from Gambino Realtors to the strip malls that Sunil Puri's First Rockford Group built. In other words, those who supported John McNamara in 1981 have triumphed—not by working against the people, but by recognizing what they wanted and using that knowledge to gain power and wealth. (If government weren't involved, libertarians would undoubtedly proclaim this a stunning example of the virtues of the free market.)

That doesn't change the fact that a small elite dominates the government of Rockford and Winnebago County for its own enrichment, but it changes the political dynamic. Those of us who recognize what's wrong here in Rockford can't count on setting it right by winning elections—particularly since politicians in both parties realize which side their bread is buttered on. Our next mayoral election (in April) will pit a Democratic state representative with strong ties to the McNamara/Box machine against a Republican businessman who shares a campaign- finance chairman—and several key supporters—with the current Democratic mayor. What's the point of having two parties?

At its root, the degeneration of modern democracy is a cultural problem, not a political one. Once political power is vested in the people, all that stands between oligarchy and freedom is the virtue of the masses. In the 18th and 19th centuries, "popular" revolutions failed because the revolutionaries didn't realize the extent to which the people were still attached to throne and altar. But now, the throne is occupied by the likes of Bill Clinton and the altar is attended by Jesse Jackson, and Americans don't mind. They may say they do; they may even think they do; but their actions speak louder than their words. Bill Clinton could have awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom to the Prince of Lies, and he would still have left office with a 70-percent approval rating. (Come to think of it, he did award the medal to the Reverend Jackson.)

So why do local Republicans continue to believe that the only way Mayors McNamara and Box could have won power was by stealing elections? The trouble is not that they can't see the forest for the trees, but that they mistake one tiny leaf for the whole of human existence. Yes, many who desire power are corrupt; yes, sometimes they break the law to achieve their ends; but often, they don't have to. Why overthrow governments, stuff ballot boxes, or manipulate counting machines when you can achieve your ends simply by saying what the people think they want to hear, while doing what the people actually want done?

At the end of George W. Bush's four or eight years as President, Roe v. Wade will still be the law of the land, more states will have recognized homosexual "marriages," more American businesses will have moved overseas, more women and homosexuals will have joined the military, more Americans will have died while killing innocent civilians in countries we have no business attacking, multiculturalism and bilingualism will have increased their hold on American education (remember, Pater's Department of Education first dreamed up Goals 2000), and immigration—both illegal and legal—will have increased. And here in Rockford, no matter which party wins the next mayoral election, Rockford Blacktop will still pave our streets, Sunil Puri will still level farmland and forests to put up strip malls and vinyl-sided ranches, and "Dr." Richard Ragsdale will still murder babies. Because, in the end, that's what the people want.

History is indeed made by men in a room somewhere; but in the modern era, those men have found that it's easier to control the course of events by adding on to the room and letting more folks inside. Soon—perhaps already—those of us on the outside will be in the minority.

***

Psst. Hey, you—the guy at the keyboard. Your conclusions may he right, hut your theory's all wrong. Wanna know the truth about the presidential election? It was all rigged from the beginning—has been, in fact, since at least 1988. That's why George Senior was so smug in those early primaries, and Bob Dole was so frustrated. He knew he couldn't win; wasn't supposed to. And 1992? Give me a break. No sitting president could run such a bad campaign unless he were trying to throw the election. 

You see, it was all a setup. The Skull and Bones know that the American people are a bunch of suckers who can't get past the appearance of a two-party system. What better way to hide the fact that they're pulling the strings than to remove the pachyderm puppet from the stage once in a while, and replace him with a jackass marionette? Clinton's not a Bonesman, but he is Yale Law, so he knows the score. This year, however, it was time to bring the presidency back home. So they crowned Dubya almost a year before the first primary and forced the only man who represented a threat out of the GOP and into a dead-end third party. The stage was set: They knew Al Gore would play along—after all, he'd picked a graduate of Yale and Yale Law as his running mate. (Surely you didn't think Bill Buckley took such a shine to Joe Lieberman because of his religious values?) 

But then the Boners made a mistake: They thought it would be fun to have a real horse race, but they cut it too close in Florida. Tired of playing second fiddle to his father, to Clinton, to Tipper, to Joe, and now to some smug son of a Bonesman—Al grabbed the bow and started calling the dance. But he forgot one thing: Clarence Thomas. Yale Law. (You didn't think George Senior nominated him just because of his race, did you?) The poor sap didn't have a chance. 

Funny thing is, it all worked out better for the Bonesmen this way. Al couldn't let the American people know just what he was fighting against—most of them would have thought he was nuts. And now, all those conspiracy theorists who used to think that Skull and Bones or the CFR or the Trilateral Commission or the Rockefellers or the Bilderbergers might be calling the shots have fallen right into line. After all, the Democrats tried to steal the election, and the Republicans would never do that, right? Next time, the Bonesmen may not even need to swap marionettes. 

Anyway, that's the real reason those Republicans in Rockford were so quiet during the Florida recount: THEY KNEW. 

Pass it on. 

First published in the March 2001 issue of Chronicles: A Magazine of American Culture.