A few months ago, I was complaining to a friend that I hope I live long enough to actually vote for someone rather than against the opponent. She gave me a wry laugh and asked, “Exactly how long are you planning to live?”
The first election I voted in was 1972. The law allowing 18-year-olds to vote had finally taken effect, and as a college sophomore, I couldn’t wait to go cast my ballot for George McGovern. I was a true believer. I got my first taste of crushing political defeat that year.
Since then, I have never missed voting in any election, and even though I find increasingly fewer candidates to get excited about, I view voting as more than a right. It is an obligation. I firmly believe if you don’t vote, don’t bitch. And, I know I’m going to bitch.
This year each party is nominating a candidate that half the country has an unfavorable opinion of. You’ve got to figure that means that, within that demographic, a fair amount of votes really detest them. How did we get to this? I believe a lot of it has to do with ideological bubble building.
It’s interesting how we can contend with family, friends, co-workers, and even significant others whose political views are far afield from ours, but we expect a political candidate, who hopes to represent millions of people, to be in a kind of political lock-step with our personal belief system. Both parties, in their ideological purity litmus tests, have skewed so far to the extreme that most of us are standing in the vast chasm that remains. It reminds me of the old Stealer’s Wheel song,
Clowns to the left of me,
Jokers to the right,
Here I am,
Stuck in the middle with you.
Actually, it’s not that surprising that so many Americans believe a candidate should be specifically catering to them. Everything else does. If you are a certain age, you remember growing up with an AM radio that picked up maybe ten stations clearly. You found a popular, static and drift-free station, listened to the DJ’s daily popular play list, and on Saturday listened to a syndicated top 40’s show. If you really liked a band, you waited to see them on American Bandstand, Soul Train, or the Midnight Special. Sure, you liked some bands and songs more than others, but there was a commonality of experience. I believe the Beatles would have still been a phenomenon in this day of You Tube, but watching their video 50 times in succession on line could never compare to four Sunday nights on the Ed Sullivan Show, followed by Mondays of arguing with your friends about who was the cutest Beatle and who was your favorite.
Today, everyone’s ears are plugged with personal play list of nothing but “their” music. Car trips are soundtracked by Siruis radio, with the station set to niche music or talk radio that reinforces personal views and prejudices.
The same thing with visual media. I like Netfilx and DVR’s a much as anyone, but I also love seeing a movie on the screen it was made for. Often when I go to movies with friends, we have our own private screening because we are the only people in the cinema. Everyone else is waiting to stream it from home. If you watch an intriguing tv show, you can’t talk about it the next day because you have to issue a spoiler alert to anyone waiting to watch it on DVR. I remember reading an essay once in a college text that referred to three things that, even if we made fun of them, unified our viewing habits: the Super Bowl, the Oscars, and the Miss American pageant. Pretty obvious that those are no longer part of the national discussion, but there is very little that has replaced them. Probably the closest would be the final episodes of The Sopranos and Breaking Bad, but lots of people didn’t sit down to watch them till weeks or months later.
Still, you can argue that TV bingeing and personal playlists are simple, solitary pleasures. The real harm is the bubble mentality is also impeding our face-to-face interactions. Next time you’re in a meeting or a restaurant, look at how many people are totally ignoring the population around them to be on their phones, texting or sending pictures to their “real” friends. Good bet at least some of those pictures are selfies, because what could possibly be more important than reminding your best friends what you look like? Being at the beach or the Eiffel Tower doesn’t count unless you’ve sent a photo with yourself plastered in the middle of it. No meal tastes as good as the one you’ve Instragramed to everyone on your contact list.
If we have constructed little virtual bubbles around ourselves where we only surround ourselves with our music, our media and our people—at our convenience—why would be accept a candidate who doesn’t accommodate our every whim?
It’s probably too late to anything this year but vote your conscience in November—and for the love of God, do vote. But think about this down the road. If this country becomes much more self-absorbed and divided, we won’t have to worry about external forces bringing us down. It’ll be a DYI project.
Try something radical. One day a week—or even one day—puncture your bubble. Listen to the music, the conversation, the sounds of the natural world around you. Go see a movie on the big screen or sit down with friends or family and watch a TV show in its first airing. Unless it’s an emergency, don’t text anyone. Strike up a conversation with people around you, no matter how different they may seem. (Truth is, they’re probably not that different.) For one day, try to live in the real world, in real time. It’s a big step, but real is better. At least I think so. But what do I know. I’m just a spinster with cats.