I grew up in the 1960s and 70s, too young to be drafted for Vietnam, but old enough to be captivated by the anti-war protests of that era. There was a soundtrack to my introduction to politics—antiwar songs on the radio, the 1968 Democratic convention on TV.
My first political memory is of my friend Andy and I handing out leaflets for LBJ on election night, although my mother said she took me to an Adlai Stevenson rally when I was in my stroller. Standing outside our elementary school while the grownups were voting felt like being behind the red carpet in Hollywood.
Four years later, it was 1968 and I was ready to fall in love with politics. My parents had a yard sign for Eugene McCarthy, but Andy had one for Robert Kennedy. I don’t remember any rivalry or division between our families. When Bobby was killed, I started down the path that led me to count RFK as my biggest political hero.
I would later memorize the “acts of courage and belief” passage from his famous speech in South Africa, sort-of-crashed the funeral of the man who wrote it, and insert the lines into speeches, direct mail and articles like this one, in which I raised the question of whether people can even have political heroes anymore.
It’s worth thinking about, no matter who wins on Tuesday. Winning an election doesn’t automatically make you a hero (I know, tell that to Donald Trump), but knowing why elections are important is a good start.
If I’m right about the polls being wrong, Democrats can still win by turning out voters who believe that OK, here I go again,
“It is from numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples build a current that can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.
Of course, these days a lot fewer of us think politics is any kind of vehicle for sweeping down even the tiniest of walls or sending forth the faintest ripples of hope. (I attribute this in part to the decline in newspaper readership, and I’ll get back to that in a future post).
This may have something to do with the perpetual gridlock in Washington that’s been prevalent since the Gingrich years. When Congress became more focused on scoring points and settling scores than on helping Americans, people quite naturally stopped looking to Washington for much hope or inspiration.
But it’s there, in January 6 Committee members like Liz Cheney and Jamie Raskin. And Val Demings, Cheri Beasley, Tim Ryan, Catherine Cortez Masto and so many others on the ballot. I can see some GenZ version of me finding inspiration from lots of different “centers of energy and daring” this year.
Meanwhile, all the other side has is “owning the libs.”
Let’s make politics heroic again. Nominate a heroic figure in the comments below, (or turn this post into a tweet and help me build an audience).
I’m still hoping that a few more GenZ voters than the 40% predicted by Harvard turn out, and more than the 51.4% of voters ages 18-24 who voted in 2020.
Before the election, polling done by Ipsos for FiveThirtyEight showed that 78% of young people said they planned to vote—which would have made them the largest demographic slice of the electorate. Instead, it was the smallest, and once again, seniors age 65-74 had the most political power.
It’s asking a lot of young voters to take a chance on this creaky political system of ours, but it’s all we’ve got. Maybe a multi-party parliamentary democracy would be more representative—but we’ll never know.
On Tuesday, voters who fall into the “Ron DeSantis wants to take away my rights” category have the chance to make history. Never mind Bobby Kennedy in Cape Town, Jimmy Stewart on a movie screen or Martin Sheen on TV, we can be the real heroes, and strengthen the democracy we need.