Author: Max Weidman
My family has something of a penchant for independent candidates. The first presidential election I remember is ’92 when my dad voted for Ross Perot. I chiefly recall an overheard reprimand from our next-door neighbors (“You didn’t, Doug!”). In 2004 I shucked along with my big brother, who had spoon-fed me any political convictions I entertained, and my father to Burlington, VM to see Howard Dean announce his candidacy. Then, over the winter break, on a highway off-ramp somewhere in Virginia, I saw it. Like most of the signs I see for Republican presidential candidate Ron Paul, it looked like guerilla propaganda. While it wasn’t tagged on a wall somewhere-which I saw once around these parts-it had the distinct look of progressive campaigning. Suddenly an article appeared in my Wired magazine about the hippest presidential internet campaign. Not surprisingly, it was about Ron Paul.
I’ve been mostly disconnected from the world of national politics since I stopped eating at my parent’s dinner table. Obama piqued my interest because of Oxy ties-the ruckus over Senator Biden’s ‘articulate’ comment came up in a class. I felt happy to drop the name if the topic came up in conversation, but I missed the inspirational fervor everyone was talking about. Then, while I was home, my little sister went to a meetup.org meeting for Ron Paul, and I felt officially shown up. As I watched the debates and listened to my mom’s relay of good pundit sound bytes, I tried to get caught up in things, but I haven’t been swept off my feet the way I want to be yet. There’s something missing.
I can’t vote in my home state of Pennsylvania’s primary because I’m registered as an independent. This does not distress me terribly because I’m mostly willing to pay politics lip service. I fully intend to follow the race and make an informed decision when I mail in my absentee ballot, but I just can’t get juiced up about the whole two party thing. I don’t like the Yankees or the Patriots, and, although, I don’t know a thing about professional sports, it’s because sure things bore me.
Ron Paul does not bore me. His website touts his consistent congressional voting record and his staunch conservative principles. I like to see libertarians in the running-no on gun laws, no on the Patriot Act, no on Iraq-but I can’t get behind the man on some key issues. His brand of border control and rumblings I’ve heard of U.N. withdrawal-speak to me of isolationism. Nevertheless, I like what the man represents, which, as far as I’m concerned, is dissent in a boring dichotomy.
This mantra of mine, that national politics needs alternative voices, borders on sloppy justification for not fully engaging in an important election. However, simply staying apprised of what’s going on isn’t enough, and being infatuated with a renegade candidate for something other than her or his platform-like a narrative, gender or dissent-is not really politics. At least not the kind of politics Ron Paul seems to be interested in.
Paul doesn’t seem to do a whole lot of pandering or flip-flopping; he certainly doesn’t seem to be a figure of compromise. So I try to embrace the man more as a figure than a politician. I try to think of him as part of a long line of dissent-from William Jennings Bryan to Dennis Kucinich-that harkens to what I see as a vital part of American government-plurality. I don’t look to the man so much as a viable or even desirable candidate. I look towards a day when, like other democratic nations, we have a multi-party system in which he could be viable.
Max Weidman is a junior ECLS major. He can be reached at mweidman@oxy.edu.
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