How do we get what we want?
As a Virginian, I’ve been musing about that a bit over these last few weeks, as my state dips into the well of gerrymandering to tip the scales of power one way or ‘tother.
Gerrymandering, as we all know, is the process by which the size and shape of political districts can be fiddled with to ensure that a particular political party has more representatives. Typically, it involves diluting the influence of another party by concentrating their voters in fewer districts, or creatively recombining regions. Gerrymandered maps are filled with snaking, convoluted lines, creating districts that bear no connection to regional identities and that are intentionally designed to disadvantage and disenfranchise opponents.
Across the river these days, Virginians are wrassling with whether to abandon the current, nonpartisan districts, and replace them with maps that…well…they’re not. My congressional district, for example is VA-7. VA-7 would be redrawn to run from Annandale westward, all the way out through the Shenandoah Valley and right up to the border of West Virginia, with another section snaking south to around Goochland…yes, Goochland.
As a Virginian, I’ve been musing about that a bit over these last few weeks, as my state dips into the well of gerrymandering to tip the scales of power one way or ‘tother.
Gerrymandering, as we all know, is the process by which the size and shape of political districts can be fiddled with to ensure that a particular political party has more representatives. Typically, it involves diluting the influence of another party by concentrating their voters in fewer districts, or creatively recombining regions. Gerrymandered maps are filled with snaking, convoluted lines, creating districts that bear no connection to regional identities and that are intentionally designed to disadvantage and disenfranchise opponents.
Across the river these days, Virginians are wrassling with whether to abandon the current, nonpartisan districts, and replace them with maps that…well…they’re not. My congressional district, for example is VA-7. VA-7 would be redrawn to run from Annandale westward, all the way out through the Shenandoah Valley and right up to the border of West Virginia, with another section snaking south to around Goochland…yes, Goochland.
If the change is made, VA-7 will look something like a stylized crawdad, or perhaps a ghost wearing boxing gloves.
All to regain a political advantage, because Dear Leader has taught us that maintaining political advantage is more important than having a representative democracy. Once you’ve got power, there are countless perfectly rational-sounding reasons for you to use that power to press your finger down on the scales, and for some reason that troubles my soul.
It’s the temptation that power always dangles before us, as we allow ourselves to believe that dominance is our goal and purpose in life.
At the beginning of the season of Lent, rolling ‘round every year, we Christians retell the story of the temptation of Jesus, of his trial and challenge in the wilderness.
In the first of the three tests, Jesus is tempted with physical need. “You’re hungry, but you don’t have to be ,” comes the seductive voice of the whisperer. “Turn that rock into bread, my friend. Don’t feel limited to matzoh, I mean, you’re the son of God, and those desert nights are cold, so how about some warm-from-the-oven chocolate chip banana bread? Wouldn’t that be just right?” But Jesus responds with Deuteronomy 8:3, a snippet of the Law which declares that our relationship with God is more important than anything else.
All of a sudden, the scene changes, with the Tempter and Jesus up on the highest point of the temple.
“You say you trust in God above all else,” comes the sly suggestion, as they teeter on a ledge. “Then jump. Surely God will protect you from harm.” And then, well, then comes the kicker. “Angels will protect you,” he hears. “They’ll bear you up.” Both words from scripture. Jesus responds with a single verse, from Deuteronomy 6. “Don’t put God to the test.”
Alrighty then, says the Man of Wealth and Taste. Let’s take this higher still. Suddenly he and Jesus are way up on a mountaintop, with the whole world spread out below, like Mufasa and Simba overlooking the pridelands at Sunset, only Mufasa would have to be the Devil and Jesus his Simba-cub-son, so that way of visualizing it breaks down pretty quickly.
All to regain a political advantage, because Dear Leader has taught us that maintaining political advantage is more important than having a representative democracy. Once you’ve got power, there are countless perfectly rational-sounding reasons for you to use that power to press your finger down on the scales, and for some reason that troubles my soul.
It’s the temptation that power always dangles before us, as we allow ourselves to believe that dominance is our goal and purpose in life.
At the beginning of the season of Lent, rolling ‘round every year, we Christians retell the story of the temptation of Jesus, of his trial and challenge in the wilderness.
In the first of the three tests, Jesus is tempted with physical need. “You’re hungry, but you don’t have to be ,” comes the seductive voice of the whisperer. “Turn that rock into bread, my friend. Don’t feel limited to matzoh, I mean, you’re the son of God, and those desert nights are cold, so how about some warm-from-the-oven chocolate chip banana bread? Wouldn’t that be just right?” But Jesus responds with Deuteronomy 8:3, a snippet of the Law which declares that our relationship with God is more important than anything else.
All of a sudden, the scene changes, with the Tempter and Jesus up on the highest point of the temple.
“You say you trust in God above all else,” comes the sly suggestion, as they teeter on a ledge. “Then jump. Surely God will protect you from harm.” And then, well, then comes the kicker. “Angels will protect you,” he hears. “They’ll bear you up.” Both words from scripture. Jesus responds with a single verse, from Deuteronomy 6. “Don’t put God to the test.”
Alrighty then, says the Man of Wealth and Taste. Let’s take this higher still. Suddenly he and Jesus are way up on a mountaintop, with the whole world spread out below, like Mufasa and Simba overlooking the pridelands at Sunset, only Mufasa would have to be the Devil and Jesus his Simba-cub-son, so that way of visualizing it breaks down pretty quickly.
Still, you get the image.
With the whole world before him, Jesus is tempted with political power, with control over all of it. “It’ll all be yours, if the price is right,” smiles the Tempter. “Just worship me.” Again, Jesus responds with a passage from Torah, from Deuteronomy 6:13. And again, he affirms that his relationship with God is central, vital, and unshakeable, and that the human hunger for power doesn’t rule over it.
Each of these tests are trials because they’re entirely understandable. There are strong internal logics to the desire for sustenance, for safety and security, and for control. Who doesn’t want, no, need food? Without food, we die, or at a bare minimum, get so hangry that we’re not the sort of person you want to spend time around. Why wouldn’t we do whatever it took to get what we biologically require? We want a sense of safety and of being protected from harm, and who wouldn’t want that?
And what wouldn’t we do to be in control, to be the king of the hill, top of the heap, A Number One? All you need is power, and you'll use it perfectly, the best, no-one has ever seen power used so beautifully before.
Temptation finds reasons to set aside values and virtues when they become inconvenient.
I’ve always found gerrymandering repugnant, to return to the moral question I'd been wrestling with. Politically motivated creative redistricting betrays the purpose and integrity of a republic, and that is true whether political expedients or bald-faced lies are used to justify it.
With the whole world before him, Jesus is tempted with political power, with control over all of it. “It’ll all be yours, if the price is right,” smiles the Tempter. “Just worship me.” Again, Jesus responds with a passage from Torah, from Deuteronomy 6:13. And again, he affirms that his relationship with God is central, vital, and unshakeable, and that the human hunger for power doesn’t rule over it.
Each of these tests are trials because they’re entirely understandable. There are strong internal logics to the desire for sustenance, for safety and security, and for control. Who doesn’t want, no, need food? Without food, we die, or at a bare minimum, get so hangry that we’re not the sort of person you want to spend time around. Why wouldn’t we do whatever it took to get what we biologically require? We want a sense of safety and of being protected from harm, and who wouldn’t want that?
And what wouldn’t we do to be in control, to be the king of the hill, top of the heap, A Number One? All you need is power, and you'll use it perfectly, the best, no-one has ever seen power used so beautifully before.
Temptation finds reasons to set aside values and virtues when they become inconvenient.
I’ve always found gerrymandering repugnant, to return to the moral question I'd been wrestling with. Politically motivated creative redistricting betrays the purpose and integrity of a republic, and that is true whether political expedients or bald-faced lies are used to justify it.
I know, for example, that the relentless dark-money mailers and texts and calls I was getting "opposing" Virginia's gerrymandering are pure refined weapons-grade hypocrisy. All of them are in the service of crass kleptofascism, which is only opposed to gerrymandering if Democrats are doing it.
Which left me, as a voter and a Christian, with a moral conundrum. On the one hand, a "yes" vote would have violated a bright line about representation in our tattered constitutional republic. "We know it's wrong, but we're doing it just this once, honest," is always a dangerous ethical stance. On the other hand, a "no" vote would have affirmed and supported a fundamentally corrupt regime that is doing everything in its power to manipulate and discredit the electoral process, and that couldn't care less about our fundamental right to choose our own leadership.
In that toxic, lesser-of-two-evils binary, I can't choose the good.
And so I didn't. As hard as it was to refrain from voting, that is what I did.
But I also didn't post this until after the election.
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