Confessions of a Political Naif

I saw recently that Lyndon LaRouche had died. Hard to believe he reached the ripe old age of 96.

Mr. LaRouche played an unwitting part in my development of critical thinking and political awareness. It was he who taught me to actually read and think before voting.

I suppose it was in the 1980s, back when I lived in Illinois. Backers of the LaRouche movement or party, however you want to characterize it, secured many spots on the primary ballot for statewide offices. I'd heard his name bandied about in the media and thought the ideas he espoused were abhorrent. I knew I would never vote for such a man. 

What I didn't know, and was not revealed on the ballot, was that a whole herd of LaRoucheites was running. They had refreshingly "normal" names, easy to read, familiar as the people next door. A few were even women, which appealed to me greatly. When the primary election rolled around I hied me to the polls and blithely marked the ballot for all the women and people with names I could pronounce, without knowing anything about them. 

When the results tumbled in over the next day or two, I was horrified to realize that I had helped advance many of Lyndon LaRouche's favored candidates to the general election. I did that. I was responsible for these batshit crazies being put before the electorate and likely being put in office in the fall. It was my fault.

Between the primary and the general, I educated myself. I hadn't been the only one to succumb to that level of ignorance and laziness. It was a well-thought-out tactic on the part of LaRouche and his henchmen. They read the voters and I was one of them. It was the last time I went to the polls without arming myself ahead of time with enough information to make a reasonable choice.

I've nearly always voted. A few times I missed or sat out an election when I was out of the country or between residences. Other than that, I've cast my ballot in every election I could, beginning with the 1972 primary when I was finally old enough to vote. I had just turned 21, which was the voting age until it was lowered to 18 in July 1971. I proudly cast my vote for the presidential candidate, Shirley Chisolm. I had read and heard about her. Did I research the other candidates on that ballot? No, I just voted for all the Socialist Worker Party candidates and filled in with Democrats and women where needed. 

Moral of the Story: Don't vote unless you know who you're voting for! Political parties, TV personalities, social media buzz, and familiar names don't mean a thing if the politico in question is a charlatan. Dig deep and then VOTE! ---- every time they crack the door at the polling station.