I did, in fact, meet someone that I thought did not exist, except, perhaps, as a thought experiment. Fortunately for me, they were quite willing to explain why they had done what they did. Unfortunately, I met them in a work context, and therefore, my ability to both cut off the conversaion and to provide blistering counterpoint commentary were both limited.
(Honestly, it was probably a good thing that this happened at work, so that my professional responsibilities kept me from delivering deeply personal and acidic responses.)
So, a person with an Irish accent explained to me, as part of a shaggy dog story involving donating a book by Bill Clinton to our Friends of the Library sale, that she still felt bad that she was giving away a book by a Clinton that she hadn't actually fullly read. That she was otherwise a staunch Democrat, and had never wanted to vote for a Republican. That she was convinced that the current President was either evil, non compos mentis, or possibly both. The first possible sign was that she had been uncomfortable with the scandalous behavior of Bill Clinton. I mentioned that the starting wars in the Middle East should have gotten more media coverage, especially compared to the coverage his indiscretions in the White House received. And when she asked what I thought about the current administrator, I said, in my best diplomatic tones, "I'm not allowed to have an opinion about that while I'm on the clock." Which is entirely true, and also the strongest signal I have in my toolbox to deploy of "You don't have to convince me that this person and his supporters with power are doing great evil everywhere."
( She turns out to be a member of those who believed in the thrust of the odious lies told about where Kamala Harris's priorities were on queer people. )I hadn't thought these people existed for the second time around, based on how things went for this administrator the first time around, but thanks to being white and looking like someone who would be willing to assuage her guilt, or at least not berate her for it, I got the story, and more confirmation that yes, indeed, ther are still too many people who vote their -isms over anything else they might consider a calid reason for voting. I realize this is not new to a lot of people who experience those -isms in more direct manners, and that my privilege lets me believe that people wouldn't do that, even in the face of large amounts of evidence to the contrary. In this particular case, though, I had thought this administrator had been sufficiently clear that people knew what they were voting for, and anyone who did it was clearly a member of the Leopards Eating People's Faces Party.
There's no heroic conclusion to this story. No minds were changed, and the person only disengaged because the eide shuttle the county operates had arrived for her. I was reminded that "Democrat" and "progressive" are two very different things, as is "Democrat" and "decent human being.' And that none of us are immune to propaganda, especially the kind of propaganda that preys upon our beliefs about who young people are, and our deeply-held convictions of how the universe is ordered and arranged. It was a sobering experience. I sincerely hope that this person is working against the administrator she voted for at this point, and that she will not make the same mistake for the next person who comes out claiming to be working on behalf of children against the evil educators and trans people. But I can't say for certain, at all, about that, because I keep seeing these kinds of "keep children off social media by forcing everyone to give up identification of themselves if they want to be treated as an adult" bills showing up, and programs that comply with those bills.
In this era, it's not hard to imagine there is someone in conversation with their god, earnestly negotiating on behalf of humans against our destruction and annihiiation. "If there are fifty just people in this world," this person is saying, "will you spare it from your wrath?" Not because they necessarily are sure there are fifty just people in the world, but because they need to set a starting point within spitting distance of where they really want to be. And if the god will grant fifty, then surely forty-five isn't such a stretch, right? Forty? Thirty-five? Thirty? Twenty? Ten? Five? If there are only five just people in the world, surely a being that created the world and peopled it and put all that effort into it would be willing to spare the rest of us for the sake of those five? It wouldn't be fair to those five just people to have their existences cut short because of the follies of the rest of us, would it? It wouldn't be just, right? Each time our negotiator lowers the bar, they're truly concerned that they've pushed it one spot too many, and that the god will call the whole thing off and destroy us anyway. But, so far, they seem to be winning their negotiation. So it's our job to be one of those five people that this negotiator desperately hopes exists. (Because this negotiator isn't saying "five just people who are of my religion," they're saying "five just people.")
I am not sure I am one of those five just people. I'm not sure I will ever be one of those five just people, but my ethics demand the relationships I have with other people should celebrate their virtues and victories and support them in their struggles against their vices and their demons. Regardless of whether there is a god at the end who will say, "That one's mine. You've earned a rest, friend, come celebrate." That's what makes this story a warning, and a tale of horror, not because I Told You So, but because in a moment of following fear rather than solidarity, so many more people than the person casting their vote are suffering. We can always hope that wisdom will prevail in those moments, but it is never a surety, and so we are left with the hope that there are still five just people left in the world, and
someone is negotiating to get the number down that low so we can all stay alive for another chance to prove that we learn from our mistakes.
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