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.
