I looked it up, and the phrase “peanut gallery” originally described the audience in the cheapest seats at 19th century vaudeville shows. The PG audience sat farthest from the stage and would heckle and otherwise disrupt a performance, often by throwing peanuts.
This Tuesday last, I left my own private political peanut gallery to go to Baltimore to canvass votes for a close friend running in the Maryland primary. My wife and I were among those leaflet-wielding, candidate-shouting volunteers, endemic to all polling places, who intercept voters on the legal side of the non-electioneering line (100 feet in Maryland.)
A few of the candidates themselves were at our assigned polling places, sweltering in the heat and canvassing along with the rest of us. The candidates we met ranged from the extremely local–––a 24 year old law student running for a school board; to statewide––– a candidate running for Maryland Comptroller.
There was a natural comraderie among the canvassers, helped along by the fact that our candidates were all running for different offices. There was also a measure of mutual respect, a recognition that we had all decided to spend our day in the hot sun to play our role, minor or major, in the political process.
I’ve rarely if ever met a group of people I liked so much with such immediacy. Especially the young candidates I met. And when next I vote, I’ll never brush off a canvasser. I’ll take the leaflet and listen to the pitch.
After we returned from Baltimore, I came upon a remarkable speech about politics given in 1991 by the remarkable Vaclev Havel who was then President of Czechoslovakia. I’ve attached a link to it at the end of this post. The speech made me think about the sweet local candidates I met in Baltimore and what may be in store for them as they progress in their political careers.
A word about Vaclev Havel. Before holding political office, he had been a dissident, a celebrated playwright, a poet, and a public intellectual. Havel’s speech, made upon accepting a prize from the University of Copenhagen, was an intellectual’s viewpoint on how the initial, noble attraction of politics could wither into something gross and twisted based on the dangerous seductions of political success.
According to Havel, people enter politics initially, innocently, and often nobly, because they’re gripped by “….ideas about a better way to organize society, by faith in certain values or ideals, be they impeccable or dubious, and the irresistible desire to fight for those ideas and turn them into reality.”
There’s a second less noble reason. It is the selfish, natural desire we all share for “self-affirmation.” Havel asks, “Is it possible to imagine a more attractive way to affirm your own existence and its importance than that offered by political power?...to leave your mark, in the broadest sense, on your surroundings, to shape the world around you in your own image…”
Havel mentions a third factor which as President he found himself particularly subject to: the perks of his office.
Have a toothache? A special dentist will come immediately to your aid. Need to get somewhere? You’ll get private transport by the fastest mode possible and if it helps we’ll close air space and roads. Want milk and cookies (preferably Tate’s)? An aide has anticipated your every craving. No need for you to waste your time shopping.
The perks can be seductive and isolating, but most politicians hold offices far below that of presidents, enjoying perks far less exceptional than Havel’s. One can imagine a hedge fund titan or a Silicon Valley superstar looking down at the perks available to, say, a mere US Senator as pedestrian and inadequate.
I think it is the self-affirmation that is so potent, so seductive, at virtually all levels of political office. To be able to self-affirm is to declare that in a cold, infinite, timeless universe, your life matters. You have a purpose and you have power to move Archimedean levers within whichever political world you inhabit, be it a school board, a state, or, like Havel, an entire country. To give up that purpose and power must be very hard indeed. For some, losing it must crush their very souls.
Advancement to bigger and bigger roles is a crucial aspect of a politician’s career. Today’s school board member can realistically dream of being a State Delegate, and today’s State Delegate can realistically dream of being a State Comptroller and so on. The ceiling of your rank and status beckons to be smashed; the floor of your rank, you assume, is permanent, adamantine. And with each advancement, the power of your self-affirmation glows more brightly, becomes more hypnotic.
Toward the end of his speech, Havel says something startling and true: “Those who claim that politics is a dirty business are lying to us. Politics is work of a kind that requires especially pure people, because it is especially easy to become morally tainted.”
Havel describes this moral tainting beautifully: “What apparently confirms [the politician’s] identity and thus his existence in fact subtly takes that identity and existence away from him. He is no longer in control of himself, because he is controlled by something else: by his position and its exigencies, its consequences, its aspects, and its privileges.”
Havel concludes that the most appropriate personalities for politics are those who are sincerely humble, who constantly question and examine their motives with vigilance and self-knowledge. That only when possessed of this moral armature can a successful politician hope to resist the loss of his or her soul.
On reflection, the terrific candidates I met in Baltimore seemed to have that moral potential. But they were all near the beginning of their ascent. Who will guide them as they climb?
Havel declared in his speech that he was unsure whether he himself had successfully resisted the dangers he warned of. And consider this: Havel was an exceptionally rigorous and talented thinker and self-questioner who had known success in many other fields before politics. He had a perspective on this subject that was unusual, if not unique.
Havel’s perspective provides me with greater understanding and thus empathy and thus a higher baseline of admiration for politicians. So did my day of canvassing. Politics is hard work. As well I can understand the declining moral arc of so many of our national political leaders, how they’ve succumbed to the seductions.
Perhaps most importantly, Havel makes a slam dunk case to avoid voting for obvious narcissists! Their egos will be the ruin of them and the ruin of us if we let them get too far.
Havel’s speech: https://www.cs.utexas.edu/users/vl/notes/havel.html
At the higher and national levels of public service, yes, I agree.
I have more hope for the local levels that are arguably as or even more important.
Thanks for this posting. It explains a great deal, including why we are so often disappointed with those whom we elect. Very few are humble and sufficiently selfless to remain so when so many perks are offered and they know more are offered at the next level.
Your post, however, also speaks to a truth about the broader world of social media. We don't have to be elected to derive some of the perks. We can simply establish a presence on social media to get some likes or positive comments and we're possibly off in that same direction, even if on a smaller scale. I believe it can be easy for a substack writer to feel good about himself as subscriptions and comments flow, just as it is gratifying for me when I post photos of my woodwork and get likes and comments. I see it enough to understand that it can be addictive and lead to more posting, looking for reactions, more posting/reactions, etc, etc. In that way, millions of us get but a taste, a mere nibble, of what politicians get on a much grander scale. I'm happy with dozens of likes. How would I react if thousands of people went out to vote for me? Hundreds of thousands? Millions? Would I remain humble?
Therein lies a major problem. The people who are running for office are (more often than not, in my opinion) actually running for more self-affirmation and not to do what is best for the community, state or nation. We are forced to choose among politicians, not statesmen or patriots.
If we are honest with ourselves, we see this in ourselves with our social media posts. Politicians have greater needs and appetites for the same affirmation we feel.