CALIFORNIA DEMOCRATIC PRIMARY 2008

THE LINES OF THE NATION

California Presidential Primary 2008

I'll begin at the place where it ended.

I covered the 2008 California presidential primary from a unique vantage point, interviewing voters at three separate polling places in Los Angeles and speaking with dozens of people from a variety of backgrounds moments after they'd cast their vote. I was gathering my notes at a diner in Burbank that specializes in Creole and Cajun cooking. Its New Orleans theme made me think back to Hurricane Katrina.

That terrible act of nature and its devastation still reverberates in the national subconscious. Its effect exposed lines of disunity in this great land of "E Pluribus Unum"; black/white and rich/poor. They are lines that have been cut bloody and deep into our nation's soul over countless decades. They are not the only lines that separate us.

What I saw on Election Day 2008 during the California primary made it clear to me that the identity matrix of American life had become even more muddled, if no less stark.

The campaigns of Obama and Clinton both tout the unifying aspect of their historic candidacies. The Obama candidacy, we are told, represents the notion of going beyond the American racial divide that has been painful, hateful and intractable. We are told that he represents something "post-racial"-- a new way of looking at and beyond ourselves. Electing Hillary Clinton, it is said, will break the "glass ceiling" of sexism that has existed for centuries in both overt and subtle forms in this country and around the world.

I believe that Americans wish to embrace both kinds of historical changes. I believe in the genuineness and openness of the American spirit. Yet, I also believe that are elements working beneath this embrace of inclusion that are uncomfortable for people to admit or accept.

For all the talk of "unity" and for all the pretty words that people voting said with respect to going past divides, looking beyond their own DNA, they were still hunkering down into old demographic lines and choosing, by and large, as much based on who they are as what they said.

ELECTION DAY

I had started out early on Tuesday afternoon. The hour of choice was at hand. A sense of transition and transcendence was clear, and everyone with whom I spoke felt it. Whatever happened, this year, this time, they believed something would be different. Whether that would be true remained to be seen, but there was no doubt that the birth pains of political change were resounding in the womb of the republic.

No one voting seemed to be going indifferently through the motions. They were excited. They were energized. I had never seen anything like it.

It was less like a political primary than an athletic contest-- a prizefight or baseball playoffs. People weren't picking a candidate, they were choosing a champion, a person who would represent their personal hopes and beliefs against an unknown adversary in the big political championship in November.

I wanted to interview a wide variety of the Los Angeles demographic in order to make a range of voices heard, so I visited polling locations in Valley Village, Sherman Oaks and Los Feliz. Each location had a different neighborhood feel and, within each, people of different backgrounds would be represented.

It should be noted that what follows is really only about the Democratic primary. It is about the choice between Obama and Clinton. Though I spoke to numerous people, I only met one Republican voter. Clearly, in Los Angeles, the "Red-breasted GOP" was as rare a sighting as a California Condor at a shooting range.

THREE LOCATIONS

Sherman Oaks is one of the more affluent areas of Los Angeles and, judging by the cars they drove and how they were dressed, most people I met fit that profile. There was a steady stream of voters going in and out of the polling place. They were mostly white and the majority were women. This gender pattern would hold true throughout the day at each location.

A house in Sherman Oaks.

The voting took place at the Sherman Oaks Women's Club on Kester Ave, a somewhat small '60s-style meeting place tucked off a corner near a freeway. The area was bucolic, despite its proximity to traffic, like a sparsely traveled side street passed over by suburban sprawl. The verdant surroundings, bright sunlight and cookie-cutter building from the days of the Brady Bunch made me feel as if I were off to a PTA meeting.

The Valley Village area.

At the Chandler Convalescent Hospital in Valley Village on Laurel Canyon Boulevard the scene was different. It was not nearly as active as the Sherman Oaks location and most of the people that I met were Latino or working class. Inside the convalescent facility, the elderly sat listlessly in wheelchairs outside a mostly empty room where voting was held. Their eyes were blank. I tried to imagine the vibrancy and life that had once been there and wondered if they were aware at all about today's primary and the historical changes at hand.

Los Feliz.

The final location was in Los Feliz, the polling location where I voted. It was Fire Station #35 on Hillhurst Ave., an unpretentious building on a somewhat pretentious block. Los Feliz is a trendy neighborhood and I expected the voters to skew young, which they did. There was a greater variety of voters of different ethnic backgrounds than at the other locations. Here, too, the majority of voters were female.

THE VOTERS -- THEIR CHOICES

Contrasting Symbols

People were surprisingly eager to talk about whom they voted for and why. I was amazed at how open most people were and how willing they were to go into detail about what motivated them to cast their ballot.

Obama and Clinton supporters expressed their preferences in different ways. The Obama supporters were more euphoric or ecstatic about their candidate. There was an idealism about what they liked, and their support for him was always spoken of in terms "hope," "change," and "newness." They talked more about the possibilities he represented as a person, rather than his positions as a candidate. The Clinton supporters were almost angrily defiant about their support for her. Though they emphasized her background and experience and the stances she had made on various issues, they did this in such a way that it felt as if they had something to prove. And to some, she too, was the candidate of "change."

If the Obama supporters were more buoyant in their support of their candidate, they were far less charitable to his opponent than Clinton supporters were to hers. Many were downright disdainful of Clinton. A strong "Stop Clinton" or "Anti-Hillary" component existed for many. Clinton supporters, by contrast, often offered that they would support Obama if Clinton were not the nominee. I found only one Obama supporter who said the same about Clinton.

The most poignant and positive examples from each side were expressed by two women at different locations.

I spoke to a young African-American woman in her early 20s in Los Feliz. She was on crutches and had paid for a cab to come to the polling place. I felt almost guilty for stopping her as she made her way back to her ride. The beauty of her words captured the spirit of ecstatic conviction that many supporters have for Obama's message. She repeated the word "hope" over and over. "Hope, hope, hope," she said and continued, "Even if things get botched, with Obama there will still be hope." It was this sense that Obama could make a difference, not just politically, but socially and culturally, that resonated so deeply with many of his supporters. In these uncertain times, he appears as a light of hope to many.

To some who support Clinton, she represents the same kind of possibility and engenders the same kind of faith. A woman I spoke to at the Laurel Canyon polling place conveyed this sort of idealism. She was in her 30s, white, dressed in jogging suit. She wore dark glasses and her blonde hair was pulled back. She told me that she had never voted before. When I asked her why, she said that she had felt "disenfranchised" as a woman because of the scarcity of viable female candidates for major offices. She said that a woman running for president made her "want to vote." She felt that Clinton's policies would be, "Beneficial to women, children, mothers, and especially single mothers." Her voice trembled as she spoke. Her passion and faith were clear.

This contrasting passion of both supporters was clearest during an encounter at the Los Feliz location.

I was speaking to a young African-American man who was almost serene as he talked about Obama's messages of hope and change. Out of nowhere, a woman ran up to me. She was in her 30s, her dark hair cascading around her face, and she was insistent on stating her support for Clinton to someone, anyone. She probably assumed I was a reporter and wanted to make sure that, whomever I was, her opinion would be on the record.

She was fiery about her standard-bearer. She told me that she was supporting Clinton because Clinton "had incredible experience, traveled to dozens of countries and is passionate about the issues." Then, quickly, she disappeared into the night.

Later, a woman in her 30s, Latina, stated that she had voted for Clinton because she wanted to see "a strong woman get elected." Shortly after she walked away, two other women, both Latina, one in her 40s, the other in her 20s, told me that they had both voted for Clinton because "She represents change."

A young man that I spoke to at the Sherman Oaks location was clear and eloquent about what drew him to Obama. He was in his early 20s, white, and he was sitting next to a car covered with Obama signs. His demeanor made it seem as if he were protecting a shrine. When I approached him, he told me that it was important that young people were "excited" by Obama and that this excitement was a component of his choice. He said he liked the fact that Obama was "younger" and "post-racial." "He represents change, not only for America, but for America's image to the world," he told me. He felt that an Obama presidency would alter positively how both friend and foe viewed the U.S. He was "change, something different," he said earnestly.

When talk turned to Clinton, his tone altered. I could see in his face that he could barely hide his distaste for her. The Manichaean duality of fervor for Obama and dislike of Clinton among Obama supporters was almost always evident.

He said she was too "polished and politicized" and that "McCain would represent more of a change than Hillary would." He called her the "establishment candidate" in comparison to the senator from Arizona. It was a pretty astounding statement given the historic nature of a woman running for the highest office in the land which, till now, has been the exclusive domain of men. It was also odd given the fact that McCain has been on the national political scene even longer than Clinton.

At the Los Feliz location, a young man in his 20s, originally from Canada, didn't mince words about his feelings towards Clinton and why he chose Obama. He said that he "liked Obama's message," but he was voting for him mainly because he wanted to "stop Hillary."

Most Clinton partisans, by contrast, expressed support for Obama as well. At the Sherman Oaks location, one woman, a Clinton supporter, said that she liked both candidates and that choosing between the two was like "Sophie's Choice." At the same location, another woman told me that she hoped that the two candidates would combine forces in November. She said that the combination of the two of them would make "a powerful ticket" in the general election.

EPILOGUE

By the time I had finished interviewing people, it had gotten dark and there was a bit of a chill in the air. It felt like November already.

What I took away from all this was that something deeper than competing political philosophies is at play. For all intents and purposes, the positions of the two candidates on the issues are mostly the same. Moreover, in terms of history, either a black or a woman president would break barriers, were that the chief concern.

What really separated supporters were the categories of race and gender. The manner in which they manifested themselves were subtle but salient. I doubt that any of the people with whom I spoke would agree with that-- and they certainly wouldn't admit to it-- but when the pattern plays out obviously before one's eyes (and is borne out in exit polls throughout the nation), it's hard to come to any other conclusion about what, at least in part, affected a voter's choice.

It cannot be overlooked that the bulk of Clinton's support was female. Women, particularly white women, supported Clinton strongly, as did most Latinos. Men, with the exception of Latino males, were entirely for Obama, as were African-Americans.

The men who supported Obama consistently stated that they considered Clinton to be the past, the establishment, or polarizing. They never overtly made gender an issue, but when lines break in such a way, it's hard to ignore whether that was a component for them or not. To call a woman running for president the "past" is, quite simply, astounding, irrespective of what her surname is. It seemed too easy an out for them. Certainly the Clintons had had their time in the '90s, but to brush off so easily the historic component of gender in Hillary Clinton's candidacy was telling.

The women supporting Clinton gave the impression that they felt that Clinton's qualities and abilities were being overlooked or overshadowed because of her gender and were angry because of it. For them, her femaleness as well as her background, were both important and motivating.

Race was rarely mentioned, and only in terms of being past the notion of it. This was also astounding and, in my honest opinion, either disingenuous or willfully obfuscating. Over the past decade we've witnessed a stark racial divide over everything from Barry Bonds to Don Imus, from to Jena 6 to hip-hop. The Internet, television, talk radio and newspapers have been ablaze with opinion about the depth and nature of racism in the country. Over the past few months, it has seemed that there is always someone being accused of racism on one side or playing "the race card" on the other. To say that, suddenly, on January 4, 2008, the date of the Iowa Caucuses, everyone woke up "post-racial" seems a bit of a stretch.

More likely, politics makes strange bedfellows, and I would suspect that some of this "post-racialism" is an ideology of convenience in the service of political positioning or gender.

Some would like to pretend that the categories of race and gender no longer exist. That if we ignore them, then the attendant discrimination that has followed throughout this nation's history will just go away. Yet those categories do exist and they will continue to exist, no matter what we might wish. For the bigotry associated with them to disappear, covering our eyes to our differences may not be the best answer as blindness has never been known to cure most maladies.

The two candidacies are clearly symbolic. Symbols are valuable and symbols inspire, but how we manifest their meaning in our lives is more important. We can refer to Obama as "post-racial," but if we only apply that term to a brilliant, eloquent and telegenic presidential candidate and forget to apply that to the man or woman of color we meet on the street or in an elevator, the "Everyday Joe" or "Everyday Jane," we won't have achieved much from his candidacy. Voting for him should not be considered absolution from guilt or a "Get Out Of Bigotry Free" pass.

Similarly, when we find that some pay more than subtle attention to gender while making choices, while others pretend that it does not matter, there is bound to be an imbalance of representation and an inaccuracy in our outlook and sensibilities on the issue. If women play "gender neutral" while men play "gender specific," it's going to be a long time before we see extensive representation in the highest offices in the land.

For some, sexism feels more "innocuous" than racism. It's the old "men are from Mars, women are from Venus" canard. Yet, we have to be honest about how politics and economics-- everything from abortion to crime to poverty-- are looked at very differently by many men and women. When there isn't balanced representation, a balance of voices are not heard on the issues. Some may think of our country as being at the forefront of equality of the sexes, but a recent study by the World Economic Forum ranks the U.S. 31st in terms of gender equity-- and 69th in terms of political representation for women. These are not numbers of which we can be proud.

People are still voting based on their particular demographic allegiances. What's different about this election is that the demographic alliances are different.

It is a sad fact about human beings that our rivals inspire us to act, at times, more often than our allies. Anyone who reads blog postings on various political sites on the Internet can see an example of that. It was no different in earlier eras. The Confederacy was defined as much by not being Northerners as it was by being Southern. During the Cold War, the favorite slogan was "Better Dead Than Red," not "Capitalism is Freedom." On a (somewhat) lighter level, there's an old saying that the New Englander's two favorite teams are the Red Sox and anyone who plays the Yankees-- but not in that order-- a sure case of being driven by what you hate more than by what you love. It's not cynicism, it's history.

But to be human is to hope and to believe that the arrow of history can move upward, forward. I see this hope in younger voters, voters under 30. I see it in their enthusiasm and idealism. For those under 30, some of those particular identities appear to be less restrictive. Many young people seem more open to ally themselves with those of different backgrounds. They seem more ready to accept differences, note them and move past them. I saw that during election day-- not completely or fully, but often enough to let one feel optimistic.

There is a lot of voting left to be done. Perhaps these exclusionary patterns, which were evidenced not only in California, but throughout the nation, will break down. It remains to be seen. Yet if we wish to live up to our motto of "From many come one," then we need to give careful thought to why and how we choose and to how our brother and sister citizens have chosen as well.

I know this, at any rate: "A house divided against itself cannot stand." If we are to make this country stronger and better, we must continue to search deeply within our minds and souls as we pull the lever, press the button or dip the pen in a voting booth this election day, we must not turn a blind eye to reality, no matter how unpleasant.