The Dangerous Mr. Paul? Part II
The Angelic Enema
By: Chasse Rehwinkel
Toward the end of the 2008 Republican Party nomination race I was assigned to cover Paul’s “much anticipated” Gettysburg College campaign stop; a trip that marked somewhat of a return for Paul, who is a 1957 graduate of Gettysburg.
In spite of this “interesting” personal connection, I wasn’t that excited to cover Paul’s appearance. After all, Paul was considerably far behind the Republican front runners and was viewed by most experts to be more of a joke than a legitimate Presidential candidate.
However, at 11:25 on April 11—an extremely professional five minutes before the start of Paul’s speech—I strolled into Gettysburg College’s Majestic Theater, having lost the battle with my editor over completing my assignment. Unbelievably overdressed for the occasion in my black t-shirt and ripped shorts, I walked into the theater and stumbled upon quite the impressive sight.
Hundreds of supporters had come, and were milling about the Majestic lobby, decked out in full Paul regalia and shouting various revolutionary slogans. It was a place of stunning passion, a lobby full of conservative misfits so committed to this lost cause that one couldn’t help but regain some respect for third party politics.
It was a scene that I have to admit totally caught me by surprise.
Like having a long unkempt beard or politely talking to oneself, the stigma of the third party has been one of confusion and madness. Not since Roosevelt, that’s Teddy not Franklin, pledged his loyalty to a progressive bull moose has a third party had a legitimate shot at election. And, not since Honest Abe mesmerized reporters with his speaking prowess, while the Democratic Party loudly shot itself in the foot multiple times, has one successfully made the transition to the White House.
So, why would any sane American voter lend support to one of these forlorn hopes? Why would rational persons capable of representing only one candidate per election choose to seemingly throw their vote away?
Simply, it’s not that simple.
Pushing my way past the Libertarian ballot sign up desk and the seemingly endless string of ponytailed delegates distributing Ron Paul fiscal responsibility pamphlets, I made it, finally, to the main auditorium. Quickly, I realized, that as a liberal, I was in the conservative lion’s den, and, therefore, it was imperative for me to find a safe spot somewhere soon in order to avoid conflict. Through throngs of what can only be described as “conservative hippies,” I searched for “friendlies,” people like myself who had mistakenly come out of curiosity. The seats filled up rapidly, and when all seemed lost, I noticed a couple Gettysburg students just outside the auditorium’s archway still unsure if they should proceed into the chaos or not. Immediately, upon joining my equally lost brethren, an usher informed us that the seats in the main theater had been filled to their maximum, leaving only the balcony vacant for those who wished to hear the speech.
It was here, far above the teaming downstairs seating, that I started to understand the sheer wonder of what was unfolding.
To my right were the two students safely acting as a buffer between me and the Paul supporters, whom I still had my doubts about, but to my left was an empty seat leaving open the possibility for a surprise guest.
Seconds before Paul was set to make his entrance, an exhausted looking man appeared from the aisle. Asking if the vacant seat to my left was still, in fact, empty. I nodded “yes,” and introduced myself as a student from the college who was curious about this dark horse politician.
He retorted by explaining that he was a resident of New York City and was originally an immigrant to this nation from Vietnam. He had become a supporter of Paul’s primarily due to his belief on the interpretation of the Constitution, a stance the naturalized New Yorker had engendered through the long process of coming to this nation.
Forget Paul’s stance on closed boarders, Mr. New York was a die-hard supporter and had woken up early that morning to drive all the way to tiny Gettysburg, PA to hear his idol speak. The man dressed in what was apparently the mandated uniform for the day: a Ron Paul Revolution shirt complete with multiple campaign buttons. With him were all sorts of props: tall signs, short ones, ones that he made and some that were given to him, loud noisemakers that, thank God, lay dormant, and, of course, more buttons. He was ready, in his element and thirsty for what was to come.
For that matter, so were many of the other patrons waiting to hear their anointed savoir speak. The theater had an Olympic atmosphere to it, the whole mass cheering as one for their lone underdog runner, completely focused on the upcoming event: Paul’s speech.
I love third party politicians. At home in either the official halls of a university or along side the urine soaked prophets of Central Park, they are candidates always willing to speak their minds. But, above being fearless politicians, third party runners actually are legitimate factors in the American political system.
Disagree with me?
Both in 1992 and 1996, the Republican Party found an unsinkable enemy in the elfish Ross Perot. This high strung Texas billionaire used his immense resources, to spin the incumbent George H.W. Bush’s campaign into a downward spiral, and, in ’96, he virtually ensured Bob Dole’s failure from the get-go.
In 2000, a tight election became even tighter when a party that had been slowly gaining momentum since the mid-nineties, the Green Party, finally pulled it together. Their leader was that champion for the malcontent himself, Ralph Nader, whose Harvidian stoicism was confoundingly more charismatic then Democratic candidate Al Gore.
As the election marched forward, Gore’s dependable environmentalist base became more and more eroded. In the end, enough votes were siphoned off of Gore to turn the election. Eight years later, Ralph is still looked on with distain from the Democratic Party.
Beyond just determining close elections, third party politics is responsible for minute changes in major party policy. If the two major parties have been consistent on anything, it is their continual adaptation for survival. Whenever a third party rises up to threaten one of the big two, invariably, one of the major parties will strike a compromise and snatch up that smaller party’s main points in order to bring the third party’s base together with the big party’s. Whether it was the Free-Soil Party in 1852, or the Green Party in 2004, this absorption of the little guy has always been a given.
Ultimately, it is not the third party’s job to get elected; it’s to bring enough momentum to their points so that they get noticed. A hopeless position, always completed with passion that is truly commendable in this day in politics.
From stage left emerged the highly anticipated Ron Paul. A sea of poster board signs rose to greet the man, some clever, such as “Ron Paul: The Enema America Needs,” some serious and slightly off-putting, especially, “It is said that some angels walk among us,” but most were the standard, “Ron Paul Revolution” with the boxed in “EVOL” representing love—a slogan of which someone still needs to explain to me. An entire auditorium was seeking guidance from one man: a Texas OB/GYN-turned-Congressional Representative by the name of Ron Paul.
Paul is not a great speaker, but the electrified atmosphere combined with his obvious passion made his speech flow almost seamlessly. Everyone that came to show support got exactly what they wanted to hear: an unwavering resolve on issues that Paul has been campaigning for since the 1960s.
To the Libertarian laymen, however, Paul’s words were not poetic calls for change. No, to us the platform being described was, for lack of a better word, crazy—which brings me to a major point: the legalization of raw milk.
Okay, we all know Paul is a little off the mainstream path. And, taking up issue with topics like legalizing raw milk, which I’ve never heard of as an actual issue, or reconverting America to the gold standard, an issue that hasn’t been under discussion since the 1880s, may seem like cherry-picked examples from a knowingly daft political platform—and you’d be correct; it is.
However, Paul is not just about these bizarre, never-going-to-happen policies. He also has legitimate parts to his platform that can easily be taken seriously, and that’s what terrifies me. Along side seemingly good ideas such as balancing the national budget and ending America’s role as “World Police Chief”, there are calls for the dissolution of the Federal Reserve System and withdrawal of American participation in the World Trade Organization, The General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade, The North American Free Trade Agreement, the International Criminal Court, and the U.N. Raw milk to me seems like small potatoes when judged alongside these ideas.
Paul’s speech was around an hour in length, with every minute and word greatly appreciated by the elated crowd. I saw children sitting on their parent’s laps with little Ron Paul signs, I heard cheers of “America” and “Freedom” every couple of minutes from crowd members who could no longer hold their enthusiasm, and I experienced the truly genuine collective pulse of the room—a tremendous excitement too overwhelming to miss.
Afterward, like a rock star, I saw Paul in the lobby signing autographs and being mobbed by his adoring fans. I have no doubt that these supporters truly respected and admired this man, and possibly some were still under the false impression that a Ron Paul presidency was possible in ’08. It was a sight that I had never seen before, and it has no compliment in mainstream American politics, which is why devotion to these never-going-to-happens will always occupy a special place in my heart.
At the time I was really impressed with Paul’s performance and I genuinely wished good luck to this “angelic enema” and to all third party politicians everywhere, if for no other reason then because they liven up American politics.
But I missed an important point: what is a daft political platform to one man is shimmering genius to another, a dangerous possibility that may yet still yield problems for the future.
This is a great article, Mr. Rehwinkel. I hope to read more/hear more from you.
Mickey