Facebook is always in a tizzy about something, and lately (and predictably) the tizz is all about the presidential election. My newsfeed isn't a carbon-based life form, but if it were, I believe it would be gouging its eyes out right now out of angst over the never-ending cavalcade of opinionated posts and irate political blog-sharing -- posts which are often quickly followed with [perhaps even more annoying] "jeez guys stop being so political" responses.
As an online news junkie, I've been following all the hubbub with a certain amount of interest. But for all of its impassioned text-based screaming, little of it feels necessarily relevant to or directed towards me, seeing as I know whom I'm going to vote for. Obama has essentially had my vote in this election since mid-2008. I'm willing to say that, barring some sort of sci-fi-caliber mishap, literally nothing at this point is going to change my mind.
Perhaps that's a bad thing. Popular (not to mention well-researched) opinion these days holds that everyone in America really needs to take a step back and get a little less True Believer about their own political party. It's certainly a bad thing that many voters blindly idolize "their side," listening in to its well-spun rhetoric, while villainizng the other party without even a split-second of patient consideration for their points or worldview.
Yet, of course, as a well-educated 21st-century youngperson, I know this. I know I shouldn't be trigger-happy with my vote. As I'm digesting the 2012 presidential mediatizzy, the more confident I feel about my vote, the more self-critical I become. I know very well that I need to teach myself to doubt my impulsive allegiances and hatreds; if you're trying to be a Good Voter, there's a lot of pressure associated with being part of the political process. I'm told, by various Media Smartpersons from various sources, that to be a Good Voter, I must know the details of every policy of both candidates. I should know which policies are "the most important," and the debates surrounding how "importance" is decided. I must become familiar with how (and how often) each candidate spins or dodges questions about these policies, and what their euphemisms say, meta-textually, about both the candidates and their policies. I should get a sense for what the candidates are like as people, yet put that information in proper context with the more important issues. I should pay attention to how each candidate conducts himself overseas, yet not let the opinion of internationals affect my vote. Unless it should. I should not pay attention to minor gaffes, but I should probably pay attention to major ones. I need to learn what constitutes a major and a minor gaffe. I must be aware that various media outlets have different biases. I must know what these biases are and how to read through their rhetoric. During candidates' speeches, I should admire their charm and well-articulatedness, but I must let neither their charm nor their articulation get in the way of my ability to asses the information. Yet likability is also a factor, but, again, its importance must be put into proper perspective...
UGH! You know what, Media Smartpersons? I have other things I need to be doing with my time, and most of them don't involve reading about current and/or potential presidents. Like going to school. And writing blogs. And viewing the outdoors every once in a while. Your steep expectations are really making me feel like an inadequate citizen of the United States.
Lately, I've more and more frequently found myself wondering what votership was like in Lincoln's era -- or, say, how a Rutherford B. Hayes supporter felt walking into the voting booth. Surely voters in those halcyon, pre-technological, vehemently racist days had their own standards for what it meant to be a Good Voter, and they likely didn't involve memorizing every aspect of the candidates' foreign policies. We're in the Information Age now, and so we're by birthright obliged to sort through loads more information than an antebellum voter, but sorting through unlimited information remains a physical impossibility. We all have to draw the line somewhere, and while each of us will hopefully collect more information than a Hayes supporter in 1821, we all have to take seriously the idea that, after a certain point, enough is enough, and no more well-intentioned analysis is necessary.
For me, what finally curbed my political ulcer was one recent afternoon when, while on an elliptical at the gym, I thought about what I would want in my Ideal President. After all, I've read enough (not everything, but enough) about politics and government to have a sense of the various major issues and stances. If I could -- like a less-creepy and more-successful Dr. Frankenstein -- build my own POTUS, what would his/her priorities be while in office? I started mentally ticking off items on the list. (S)he would be a poised, well-spoken individual, who would spend his/her time in D.C. fighting for: strong early education, affordable higher education, support for the poor, rights for women/people of color/gays, bipartisanship, peacemaking, closing the wealth gap, protecting the environment, increased regulations in banking and finance...
It turns out that I know enough to know more or less what kind of candidate I would want to vote for, and -- guess what? -- Obama just happens to be pretty darn close to my ideal president. I felt that way in 2008. I still feel that way today. Mitt Romney is, ideal-proximity-wise... off in a field somewhere.
The manic Internet bickerfest will rage on until election day, but my vote is settled -- and more importantly, I'm no longer going to feel anxious about it.
