Elephants and Ostriches

“What a long strange trip it’s been.” Robert Hunter

“People who only make right turns often end up back where they started.” Icarus Pundit

The events leading up to this week’s Republican Convention in Savannah have given me time to reflect on the strange journey that has been my affiliation with organized political activity. Though I was involved in a few campaigns as early as a pre-teen and was a Young Republican when in college, my real political experience began in 1996 when my Dad was talked into running for Tax Commissioner of Fayette County. We were typically naïve about how the political process worked, but were drawn in to various political circles and networks as part of that campaign, and during the same election cycle, I ended up working on Bob Dole’s primary campaign, John Mitnick’s attempt to oust Cynthia McKinney (lot’s of great stories from that one), and a few other scattered races.

My first political convention was in 1997, which I attended as a non-delegate guest. Conventions are where we attempt to put the “party” in Republican party, but too often, the result ends up like the inauguration scene from the movie No Way Out. And you would think with this state’s history of the Yazoo land scandal, we would have long ago passed a law prohibiting the mixing of alcohol and political activity. But instead, conventions have the mystical power of transitioning candidates who believe Sunday alcohol sales are an abomination into margarita mixing yacht captains.

Aside from the open bar glad-handing, conventions also have their serious side. Leaders are chosen, and it is often a time when the many back room deals crafted in advance of a political season are given their first public face.

Such was the case in 1997. After years of “eating our own young” in bitter primary battles, the Republicans finally got smart. We decided to clear the field for a candidate that represented everything we, as the minority party at the time, claimed we stood for. He was a champion of government reform with a proven record of battling corruption. He was a low-tax fiscal conservative. And by all accounts, he was a social conservative whose personal life was beyond reproach. Or so we thought.

Prior to his coronation speech, virtually every elected Republican Congressman was paraded across the stage to state what an excellent Governor our candidate would be. There was genuine excitement that we had finally found our winner. I was hanging on every word when he began to speak. And then, a small problem.

Our man stated that he had a feeling about his campaign, and likened it to a certain World War II event, and adopted its name. He had decided to call his campaign “A Rendezvous With Destiny”. As soon as he said that, the friend on my left leaned across me to the friend on my right and asked “Destiny? Was that her name?”. Wait. What? Georgia, we have a problem, and its name is “adultery”.

I was shocked at the revelations that I learned in the hours that followed. Our “straight arrow” candidate had essentially been leading a double life. Worse, the “inside crowd” knew about it, but it was just “rumors”. “We can’t act on rumors” was used early and often as justification for the Ostrich Approach to the truth about The Chosen One. Desperation to win had clouded judgment. Party loyalty demanded allegiance that was not to be questioned. We had our man, and everyone else was expected to be on board when the train left the station.

The train we all hopped on derailed before the primary. There was just enough time for a weaker, but willing to self-fund candidate to secure the nomination. The campaign was lost, however, to Roy Barnes, and Georgia unnecessarily had a Democrat as Governor for four additional years.

Since my first convention I have lived through the 1998 campaign for Governor, when we allowed the Ostrich Approach to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. I’ve lived through the 2000-2006 period when we were in absolute power in D.C., and thus any criticism of the non-conservative things we did under the name of being a Republican was “unwittingly lending aid and comfort to Democrats,” or even worse, “the terrorists”. I lived through the 2006 election cycle, where the straws of covering up for and/or ignoring the activities of the Jack Abramoffs, Mark Foleys, and Larry Craigs broke the Republican Camel’s back. And I can’t help but look at our absolute majority in Georgia government and conclude that we too often transcend from a party of proud elephants to a party of arrogant ostriches.

Too often, “party loyalty” is a bullying tactic that is used to keep the grass roots in line. No one working within the ranks, and certainly no one working their way up the ranks, wants to be branded as disloyal. And challenging authority, either elected officials or party stalwarts, is the number one act of treason as viewed by the insiders. It’s easier, and a safer career move, to be an Ostrich.

Safer, at least, until the whole team is “fired for cause”. We should not be surprised when the voters throw out our team when we choose to look the other way on the lapses of our own, from favored legislation for the lobbying class, campaign finance schemes that walk or cross the line of legality, or the hypocrisy of holding yourself up as a social conservative while living a lifestyle that is not consistent to your vow of marriage.

I’ve changed quite a bit since that first convention in 1997. Then, I was much more concerned with how I fit in, and who I would be accepted by. This year’s convention was quite different for me. I was able to go on my own limited agenda, relax, and just be me. It was quite refreshing.

Yet, though it was very different, there was an odd similarity to my first convention. I’m pretty sure I saw more ostriches than elephants in Savannah. Georgia, we still have a problem.

Charlie Harper,
a/k/a “Icarus”