Democracy Maintenance 2020

Now that Joe Biden has been officially sworn in as the 46th President, I wanted to take time to recognize some unsung heroes of our democracy: State and municipal election workers around the country in general, and the staff at the Philadelphia City Commissioners Office in particular. Our country faced a huge crossroad and without the efforts of all these workers, during one of the most chaotic elections in U.S. history, our system of government may have ceased to exist. We all owe them a great thanks.

The 2020 election caused me to think about the Adult Swim series Rick and Morty. Not because the election made me feel like I was travelling through an alternate reality like a classic Rick and Morty adventure. Nor did it cause me to think of the specific episode where Rick ponders when fascism had become the default. Instead, I found myself thinking of “Pickle Rick”.

For those of you not familiar with the animated series, it is a Sci-Fi satire masterpiece that is bonkers, sprawling, insightful, filthy, grim, absurd and hilarious all the same time. It features the Most Brilliant Human in the Universe (Multiverse actually) Rick Sanchez, and his grandson Morty as they use teleportation technology to explore the galaxy and alternate timelines. For all his brilliance and adherence to scientific method, Rick is an agent of chaos. He tends to leave a path of destruction, both physical and emotional, and then callously moves on to the next adventure. The “Pickle Rick” episode could take hours to explain. Instead, I will give you the briefest synopsis: In order to avoid going to family counselling Rick turns himself into a pickle. Mayhem follows.

For me, the key moment in the show is when a battered and dying Pickle Rick finally staggers into the family’s therapy session. There he has a verbal faceoff with the psychologist, Dr. Wong. (voiced with perfection by Susan Sarandon) Rick goes on a condescending rant explaining his personal disregard for psychotherapy. Being the smartest man in world, it is rare that anyone ever has a reasonable come back for one of Rick’s dissertations. However, Dr. Wong is the exception. As all good therapists do, she recognizes Rick’s viewpoint. Then she proceeds to kick the soapbox out from under him.

Dr Wong uses the analogy that therapy is like brushing one’s teeth. It is not exciting. It is not earth shattering. It is simply a form of maintenance. But it is these most basic and mundane tasks that keep our lives from falling apart. Sure, altering your own genetic makeup and battling international criminals may be more exciting than the daily application of fluoride to prevent gum disease, but the former also tends to leave you torn apart and on the verge of collapse. (and in Rick’s specific case, oozing brine) She wraps up by saying: “Some of us are willing to put in the work, while others would rather…die.”

I live in Philadelphia – the place where American democracy was first put in writing over 200 years ago. In November of 2020, the city found itself as a key cog in the machine of democracy again. In a very close Presidential election, Pennsylvania lived up to its name as the Keystone State.  By the end of election day, it became apparent that it would be impossible for Donald Trump to win re-election without taking PA. Philadelphia being both a democratic stronghold and the most populated area of the Commonwealth, the fate of the nation seemed to rest on the shoulders of my hometown. Trump started the day with a sizable lead over challenger Joe Biden, but as each update came in from Philly, that lead shrank. Due to the COVID pandemic, a huge number of voters had used paper mail-in ballots which taker much longer to tally than votes cast by machine. However, state law prevented election officials from counting them until election day, making it impossible to finish the count in a single day. Trump attempted to declare himself the winner even though hundreds of thousands of ballots remained to be counted. Watching their PA lead get eaten away by the mounting Philadelphia tally, the Trump campaign descend upon the city determined to stop the count before their premature predictions evaporated completely. Teams of lawyers filed baseless injunctions, un-certified “poll watchers” stomped their feet demanding more access, and rowdy supporters created all manner of distractions out on the streets.

In that period immediately following Election Day 2020, I found myself constantly thinking of City Commissioner Lisa Deeley, and images of Dr. Wong came to mind. In the lead up to the election, and the days that followed, Ms. Deeley had been putting in the work; holding multiple press conferences and interviews to help explain the complexities of voting in the age of COVID19. Her office had engaged in all manner of community outreach to help inform voters and ensure the process would go as smoothly as possible in such a trying environment. Now her team was diligently processing a mountain of votes. My heart ached and bowed at their unflappable nature. As seemingly the whole world writhed, shrieked, and battered at their door, they calmly, methodically counted. For four excruciatingly long days they counted. 350,000 pieces of paper with little handmade ink marks that held the future of our great democratic experiment in the balance. Slowly they counted as the whole world watched; as vultures swirled overhead, waiting to pounce on any imperfection. Trump’s team was actively looking for the smallest mistake to capitalize on, and take the process away from the people, and hand it over to an intentionally biased group of judges. Amidst all this pressure, the election officials continued the work. On the second day, a judge ordered them stop, and they complied, pausing for one hour to allow the vultures to move several feet closer, and then they continued the count.

Meanwhile outside the Pennsylvania Convention Center, the rest of us basked in the danger and excitement. Anxiety induced adrenaline pumping through our veins, we engaged in all manner of coping mechanisms: chanting, marching, arguing, speculation.  TV pundits and social media trolls called out to an unseen army of conspiracy theorists to descend upon my fair city and disrupt the process. The residents of Philadelphia sent out their own call to protect the work and defend the workers. With no more control over the situation, the citizens worried, danced and raged; each side waving its banners and shouting its own rhetoric. Costumes were donned, drums (both literal and figurative) were beat, art and anger swirled in a cloud on Arch Street.

But ultimately it was all for show. The real action – no matter how mundane it looked – was happening inside. Contrary to claims that the count was being shrouded in secrecy, the city had set-up a live webcam showing the ballot processing facility for all to see. Antiseptic metal racks, conveyor belts, and tidy stacks of white envelopes was all that was to be seen. Seemingly disinterested workers patiently moving through the ballots, their yellow safety vests the only splash of color in a wash of grey equipment. To some, the monotony of the live stream had a calming effect. To others it was a source of frustration. For those used to the world of Reality TV – where manufactured conflict and forced drama are the norm – this calm space, with no one arguing or crying, did not seem right. And to a former host of a Reality TV show, the notion of a group of people just going about their business in a rational way, working toward a goal with no melodramatics, had to be some sort of fake. But no, this is, in fact, what reality looks like. But if you have been swimming in a sea of illusion for decades how would you know?

There it was on display for anyone patient enough to watch – the pain staking drudgery of the count, the maintenance of democracy. Ms. Deeley and her team were brushing and flossing for America, no matter how many of us believed it unnecessary, or felt it was beneath our station. The diligent and careful workers inside the convention center went about their business, blocking out the noise, ignoring the predator’s claws, disregarding the dancing clowns, averting the gaze of teary-eyed neighbors. Dutifully suppressing their own lizard brain response to run, hide, or fight, they focused on the task and counted. Much like Dr. Wong had to face a pickle covered in blood and rat feces belittling her profession, Commissioner Deeley and the rest of the election officials stared down the accusations of fraud and announced that they were willing to put in the work.

On Saturday November 7^th, the results were posted. The votes had been counted and the voice of the people was heard. America would get to keep its soul partially intact, at least for a few more years. The rusty, sputtering, 233-year-old machine of democracy would stay on the road a little longer. And it is all thanks to a group of laborers who do not get any glory or excitement. There won’t be a new reality show “The Real Election Officials of Philadelphia” – unless the city commissioners live webcam fits the bill. I don’t foresee a popular game called “Who Wants to cross reference 100,000 mailing addresses?” There are certain things that just don’t make for good television. So, the spotlight will stay on the shouting maniacs and the dancing puppets; but I am forever grateful to the even keeled, dedicated workers across this nation who are willing to do the maintenance the world needs. The rest of will try to pretend we are superior beings and run around waving banners, riding the roller-coaster, and dancing with the possibility of destruction. I hope there will always be boring election workers to clean up the mess.