Am I a progressive, or am I a conservative? Let’s see here — progress or conservation. Is there a right answer? Obviously there is. There’s also a left answer. But there’s neither a right answer nor a wrong answer. So what’s left? Right now, I’m a college student with little money and no job prospects. So to answer the question, I suppose I’m progressive because I favor progress. “Congratulations on joining the Democratic Party, Mr. Haxel. Remember us in November!”
Lady-pooping-Gaga-dogbreath! I didn’t say that! I agree with some aspects of the Democratic ideology, but not all. So I guess I favor progress, but I’m not a progressive? Oh crap, I sound like an idiot now (they know!). Later, when I’m obnoxiously wealthy, I may very well be a proponent of conservation, but I don’t think I’ll be a Republican then, either. Then I’d be a non-conservative fan of conservation. Ample evidence notwithstanding, I’ll still sound like an idiot.
How did this happen? If I’m an independent, what does that make me? Apathetic? Indecisive? Pragmatic? There’s no hired-gun spin doctor to imagineer splendiferously subtle words to describe independence. Independents are a diverse group of people with complex reasons for their beliefs. Many adjectives describe some independents, but no word describes all independents. Really, “independent” is the only word that holds us together. Seems reasonable, but wouldn’t the last couple sentences also make sense if I’d replaced “independent” with “Democrat” or “Republican”?
They would make sense, and that’s a problem. Not all Democrats are “progressive” and not all Republicans are “conservative,” but those are the words propagated by political operatives because they make for a damn good sound bite. There’s a horde of “descriptors” like this: liberal, religious right, grass roots, red, blue, tea partiers, tree huggers, mama grizzlies, alarmists, neocons. All of it is doublespeak, with meanings readily hijacked by anyone wily enough to consider the consequences. It’s a dangerous game because by consenting to these labels, we are allowing people to control us.
Contrast this subtle influence with the overt leverage applied by, for example, unions or religious groups: Voters choose to become members of those groups, and some of their collective power is derived from the anticipated uniformity of voting decisions. A Catholic Teamster may weigh his pastor’s sanctity of marriage argument against his union boss’ support for universal health care, and then decide for himself which is more important.
But what of the voter who doesn’t realize he’s being played? America watches insincere blowhards and so-called experts disseminate talking points to the talking heads on cable news talk shows, so Glenn Beck and Rachel Maddow can talk about what they think is important. None of these people care about anything except ratings, whether in the form of viewers or voters.
It’s maddening, and to be an independent voter is to eschew it all. Voting itself is perhaps the most independent action a person can take. You walk alone into a booth, pull closed a curtain behind you and cast your singular vote with the anonymity of your decision protected by law. A single vote, in a sea of thousands or millions — it seems so inconsequential. Independent voters have no agenda, no party, no caucus or quorum. We only have our votes. An independent voter is compelled only by his conscience. It’s empowering because it feels right. And because it’s all we’ve got left.
Christopher Haxel is a junior English major. He can be reached at haxel at umdbk dot com.
