No Sense Bucking Natural Forces

The Reflecting Pool on the National Mall is a case in point. Try to go against what’s natural, what’s natural invariably wins out in the end. Algae will do what algae does. There’s a life lesson there that extends well beyond plant biology. Whether choosing a career path or selecting a mate, acting in harmony with your intrinsic nature is the smartest route.

Not hearing it much anymore, which suits me fine, but every now and then the subject does come up, like yesterday, in a comment reacting to a social media post of mine: “Will You Run Again?”

Many don’t remember I once was a candidate for governor here in Wisconsin, back in 2018. Some never knew, my candidacy never crossed their radar. A few, very few, did know and do remember, and evidently look back on it fondly enough to desire a repeat performance. Sorry, I’m afraid I must disappoint all four of you, for a long list of reasons.

The outcome of the 2018 election is not among those reasons. That race was one of the most uncomfortable undertakings of my life, and one of the most gratifying. Hated it, and loved it. Having lost doesn’t bother me, done plenty of that over the course of my life. The many setbacks I’ve experienced taught me long before 2018 that winning and succeeding are not the same thing, nor are losing and failing.

I’m no stranger to politics, been around it for much of my life. Can’t say I love it, not the way true political junkies do. I put up with it because it’s important, it’s the way we govern ourselves, involvement in it is the price we pay for civilized society. Here’s the thing, though. Knowing the political world as well as I do has always made me question whether running for office is the right role for me.

I was born and raised on my family’s dairy farm, on a gravel road, out in the middle of nowhere, a solitary existence if there ever was one. Whether through nurture or by nature, I am an introvert. Being introverted doesn’t make you reclusive or even socially awkward, it just means socializing exhausts you, empties your tank. Extroverts feed off it. There are few things in life more social than running for public office. It is done in the extrovert’s natural habitat.

Because of work I did for many years and recognition of its value, and especially because of a book I wrote more than a decade ago and what grew out of that book, people started urging me to run for office. I said no, repeatedly. Some took no for an answer, many others didn’t, kept pestering me even though they knew I was reluctant. I told them no, again and again. Didn’t do the trick. Growing numbers seemed to have their hearts set on it. I finally relented, granted them their wish, against my better judgment.

Didn’t take long before I could tell I was something of a fish out of water. Having your name on the ballot is like no other role in civic life. Trained as a journalist, I was taught to tell people what they need to know. Winning popularity contests is not the goal. The job is to report the facts, get to the truth; the reporter is never the story. Politicians, on the other hand, are conditioned to tell people what they want to hear, for popularity is the goal. For them, the job is getting noticed, basking in the spotlight, building name recognition, the surest path to winning any election.

Woody Allen famously said 80% of success is showing up. This rings especially true in electoral politics. Aside from begging for money, the candidate’s primary if not sole job is showing up, worming your way into every room, wherever there’s a crowd, whether or not you’re invited. Every introvert’s nightmare.

This reality put the old idiom “fire in the belly” in a whole new light for me. I thought I had it, but soon learned a burning desire for social and economic justice is not nearly enough fuel for the infernal hunt for votes. To win, you have to want the office as much as or more than others do, really crave it, and holding office has never been a goal of mine.

For all the talk about leadership, we habitually look for it in all the wrong places. No one talks more about leadership and does less leading than politicians. Genuine leaders give credit and take blame; politicians routinely do the exact opposite.

Politics is important, but so is recognizing its limitations, understanding it’s not where actual leadership comes from. Nearly four years ago, I wrote this:

I don’t mind saying I am stumped. I am at a loss for answers. Hell, I’m not even sure what questions would be most helpful to ask right now.

There is one thing I am pretty darned sure of, though, and this will sound strange coming from someone who’s spent virtually his entire adult life working in and around politics, trying to make government more responsive to the general public.

Our redemption will not come through politics. Prescriptions for the cure to what ails our society most will not be written on Capitol Hill. Social change will lead to political action somewhere down the road, not the other way around. Politics won’t fix us. We’ll fix ourselves first and our relationship to our country next, and the nation’s politics will eventually catch up.

Was watching The Daily Show the other night, Jon Stewart was interviewing the Baptist pastor Raphael Warnock, who also happens to be a United States Senator representing Georgia. Was struck when Warnock said “the language of partisan politics is too puny a vocabulary” to speak powerfully enough to the severity of the multiple crises facing our country.

Couldn’t agree more. Partisan political vocabulary does not extend much beyond credit and blame, how our side’s great, theirs is at fault. That’s why we have so many gigantic problems that are not being meaningfully discussed much less solved in the corridors of power. All of us need to search high and low for a richer language and forums where it can be spoken. I am not claiming to have found them, but my search is leading me away from the debate stage where those seeking political power employ their impoverished vocabularies.

One other reason I will not run again, not my only other reason but one that’s top of mind for me, is my age. I turned 66 a few weeks ago. I know the president just turned 80 and Congress is basically a geriatric ward, making me a spring chicken by comparison. But still, I acknowledge I am past my prime and, more importantly, strongly believe our country needs to freshen up its politics by ushering in a youth movement. We need new thinking, new ways of looking at our greatest challenges, a broader generational perspective than that of those born during the Baby Boom. It’s time for people my age and older to make room for younger generations to steer the ship of state. Our future will be in very good hands.

Being an active and engaged citizen is second nature to me, a habit I expect will stay with me the rest of my life. Now more than ever, there are truths that need telling, truths the high and mighty need to hear. There are newcomers who need cheering on, novices in need of mentoring. I’ll be doing these things, I just won’t be throwing my hat in any rings. That’s not the role I’m meant to play, maybe never was cut out for it, certainly am not best suited for it now.

Not to worry, there are plenty of fish ready to swim those seas, plenty of birds prepared to fly those skies. Me not being among them leaves no void. I swim poorly and cannot fly.