Not long after the bombs began falling in Russia’s war on Ukraine earlier this year, I saw a TV interview with a Ukrainian woman who had just fled her home. She was tearful, terrified, and in shock. Yet she suddenly turned towards the camera and implored her American audience: “Enjoy your clear blue skies!” She somehow managed not to sound bitter or sarcastic, but instead conveyed the wisdom and grief of someone who has just lost her freedom, security, and way of life.
My parents knew firsthand how quickly blue skies can turn dark. They lost family in the Holocaust and barely escaped it themselves. After coming to the U.S. in the early 1940s, they met, married, and settled down to work and raise a family. But they never lost their fear of persecution and, once they became American citizens, they never missed the chance to vote in an election.
They were private in its most literal sense. The house they built in California’s hills overlooked a wide valley but was hidden among the oak trees. Except for work, they avoided joining organizations that might require too much self-disclosure. And although my mother volunteered in political campaigns, she disapproved of bumper stickers and buttons, and my father refused to tell even his own children whom he voted for.
My parents’ message to me as I was growing up was ‘Be careful.’ They had learned to
value anonymity the hard way, by having targets on their back. Due to their fears of being
“discovered,” I did not learn until middle school, when an innocent question from a fellow
led me to ask my parents about our heritage, that I was of Jewish descent.
At the time, as a young and naïve American, I thought my parents’ secrecy—especially with their own children—was silly. But I came to understand their more central caution. Nothing is safe. Freedom needs vigilance and nourishment to survive, and in the meantime keep your head down.
***
As the 2020 election approached, after four years of rogue rule by a president who was
running for a second term, I struggled to manage my own angst. Trump’s lies, corruption, misogyny, racism, disregard of the norms of our democracy while embracing tyrants worldwide, and slavish devotion to self—all accomplished with near impunity (impeached but not convicted)—had brought us dangerously close to losing our free society. My parents would have been frantic by now and I was getting there.
As an adult, I had become, like them, an avid voter attuned to any signs of decay in our form of government. I remain perplexed by the large number of eligible Americans who don’t vote. Since 1932, the percentage of eligible voters who have participated in presidential elections has ranged from 51% (just over half) to 63%. That means, at least one third of potential voters consistently stay home. There are reasons. Voter suppression in the form of selectively eliminating places and methods of voting. The disappearance of civics education that reminds young people of the role of citizens in a democracy, and teaches them how our government works. Lopsided polls that suggest the election is decided—so why bother. A sense that the system is corrupt, one vote does not matter, or our leaders inevitably disappoint—so, again, why bother. For those who have never been persecuted by others—no sense of what could be lost.
For me there was too much riding on this election to sit back. So I joined a national letter-
writing campaign whose goal was to encourage—with non-partisan language—10 million people to vote. The campaign used research to identify who was most likely to support democratic values but was sitting on the sidelines. It also determined the most effective messages and send-off dates. The letters included information on how to register and vote in one’s district, and a few lines by the writers—not about particular issues or candidates, but about why we vote.
I loved that this letter-writing campaign was so structured: just three inches of space to make a handwritten pitch. And it was meditative. While considering what to write, I sat at my desk, surrounded by envelopes, pens with blue ink, and stamps—American Flag, Women Vote-19th Amendment, and Thank You. When I glanced up at my bulletin board looking for inspiration, I saw a photo of my father and me in a brick-lined chapel, waiting to walk down the aisle at my wedding thirty years ago. And another of my mother and father listening to someone off-camera, as they sat side by side in the living room of their last residence together.
Channeling Mom and Dad reminded me of the America they revered and the one I feared we were losing—a nation that aspires to thoughtful, fact-based solutions to our problems, opportunity for all, and respect for our differences. Our representatives in government needed to have those values. I tried to be encouraging.
I want to help elect people who share my view of the role of government in our quality of life. When I vote, I feel I’m helping to strengthen our democracy and that feels good!
The process was repetitive; yet the act of writing over and over again that our voices and votes matter became a shield against the ever-more surreal and alarming news that poured in hourly as our democracy teetered. Each day I steadied my nerves by lining up the sealed envelopes in shoeboxes, like soldiers waiting to go into action.
In the end, every bit of effort throughout our country—all the organizational work; every
penny, letter, and postcard; each speech, op-ed, and media appearance; and, most of all, every vote—made the difference. Trump’s challenger, Joe Biden, prevailed and for a while I could imagine living in a more sane political climate. In fact, more Americans (62%) voted in this election than in decades. For both candidates. It truly was a battle for the ages. And it felt good to contribute.
Yet 80 million eligible Americans still did not vote.
***
And here we are. Despite the results of the 2020 election, and because of it, our political nightmare continues.
The false and cynical assertion by Trump that the 2020 election was stolen from him (but no one else on the ballot) continues to divide us and mock us as a “beacon” of democracy. And then there are the offspring of the Big Lie. The insurrection on January 6. Disrespect of the courts’ rejection of “voter fraud” claims. Partisan “ballot reviews.” State-sponsored voter suppression and voter subversion laws. Conspiracy-driven decision-making by elected officials. Tens of millions of voters lied to by media outlets.
In her Letters from an American on April 24, 2022, Heather Cox Richardson summed up the most salient threat:
It appears that elected officials of the Republican Party are willing to overturn a legitimate Democratic victory in order to guarantee that only a Republican can hold office. That means a one-party state, which will be overseen by a single, powerful individual. And the last 59 days in Ukraine have illustrated exactly what that kind of a system means.
Fortunately the House of Representatives’ January 6 Committee, which recently concluded eight public hearings, has laid out what happened on that day and what led up to it. Without drama or grandstanding. Just the facts. And coming from Trump's own appointees and other Republicans who were involved. Hopefully the message is getting through. The Committee promises they will have more to share with the public this fall.
***
I wonder what happened to that early witness to today’s war in Europe—the Ukrainian
woman who reminded us not to take anything for granted. In the meantime, other refugees from Russia’s brutal assault on Ukraine are slowly beginning to enter the United States. A friend told me recently of family members who made it into Poland from Ukraine, then went to Paris and from there traveled to Mexico, before finally entering the U.S. via California.
Most refugees follow indirect and dangerous paths. Success depends on luck, connections, the generosity of strangers, and the ability to tolerate, at every step, not knowing what lies ahead. My parents, who lived through a war with targets on their backs, understood this all too well. And they were the lucky ones.
***
Human nature does not change. Our leaders can either tamp down the strains of bigotry and evil that have always existed or encourage them to fester and take over. Losing our ability to repel the forces of authoritarianism and determine our own destiny is what is at stake for us now.
Today, as Ukrainians are fighting and dying for their freedom, it feels absurd that we have to remind Americans to do what is essential in a representative democracy: to express our will peacefully by voting, armed only with our values and the facts.
This week there was evidence that this message is getting through. Kansas citizens voted overwhelmingly to support abortion rights in their state after the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade in June.
As the midterms loom, I’m writing letters again. There’s hope in action. To fight fairly and civilly for our precious freedoms has never felt more urgent. My parents would have called that citizenship.
Letters for Vote Forward campaign, Sept. 2020
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Voter_turnout_in_United_States_presidential_elections
Comments