As I See It: Why America’s ‘perfect democracy’ is always ‘perfect indecision’

Jon Huer

Jon Huer

By JON HUER

Published: 10-18-2024 4:01 PM

In the last six presidential elections, the contests were so close that less than a 3% shift in the voters would have changed the outcome. In the November election, nobody expects a landslide.

Why? It’s the very logic of a perfectly open democratic society. We in America believe that our democracy must allow all-available methods of persuasion, just short of outright vote buying or brute-force coercion. Logically, all such “fair-democratic” elections lead to “stalemated” elections. No other results are possible.

Let’s consider how Democrats and Republicans operate in America: Both sides, conservatives and liberals, are evenly divided: They field the best candidates they can find; they control comparable amounts of money and can hire the best campaign strategists and operators that are equally available to both sides.

In the Soviet Union of old, surely no open democracy, much less a perfect one, the Communist Party used to get 99% of votes. (Putin and Kim Jong Un get 95%). In America’s “perfect democracy,” no one commands such advantages: Both sides simply shift and adjust until each other’s advantages are nullified. After all, all things are open to both sides, equally. America’s perfect democracy — always open to persuasion and free calculus — is a prescription for a “perfect stalemate” every time.

Let’s say a hungry man is about to choose between two equally established fast food chains. The two eateries are perfectly matched in every way, commanding every known technique of food manufacturing and marketing, according to the rules of market democracy and taste buds. Naturally, they are equally attractive and equally persuasive, quite like McDonald’s and Burger King, two franchises in stalemate, neither side dominating. Perfect competition between the two best teams always results in stalemate, as one side’s advantage is matched by the other side’s advantage.

Indecision, even paralysis, is inevitable when the choices are equally appealing. Just imagine a baby who has to decide which parent he should crawl to when both sides compete with their sweetest love calls: “Baby, come here to Mommy (or Daddy)!” Unable to make decisions between two equally powerful choices, the baby will have to break down and cry.

In our current political process, the two evenly matched parties are calling to the voter-baby:

Democratic campaigner: “Come on, baby, we will give you anything you want. Just vote for me!”

Republican campaigner: “Come on, baby, we will give you anything you want. Just vote for me!”

The so-called “independent” and “undecided” voters are America’s hungry men and hapless babies in search of their best deal. (All so-called “open-minded” voters continue this exploration a lot longer for the best offer before they make their decisions). American voters and consumers cannot be forced or hurried; they can only be persuaded by whatever would please them the most.

The voter’s every whim, every desire, every fear, latent and manifest, is explored; appeals and counter-appeals are advanced; promises and attacks on those promises are made. Both sides have equal access to TV time, technical know-how and brain power — until the voter-consumer is babied to death with nothing of any intelligence left in him.

In open democracy, every voter and every consumer is like a child unable to make up his mind in the face of such equally appealing shining objects.

When the hungry man finally orders his lunch, compelled by his needs, a battle of WWII-proportions has been settled at last. The hungry man’s trivial decision is the result of a great battle of wits and resources between the two contending parties for the future of America. Even the most trivial advertisement, both political and commercial, represents America’s best arts and sciences of persuasion. In vote-getting and money-making, no stone goes unturned (and the baby is still undecided).

Thanks to Election Day that is existentially set, the voter cannot dither forever. Otherwise, in the never-ending stream of offers and counter-offers, the undecided voter would wait eternally for the best offer he could possibly get. Unlike most Europeans and Japanese, we Americans make public decisions (like electing president) as a private affair, which leaves the burden of decision-making all up to the lone individual with no help from the community.

So-called opinion polls provide more light into how voters, like Pavlov’s dogs, respond to ongoing stimuli. Typically, candidates hardly change, but voters change their minds virtually every moment. (Otherwise, polls would be unnecessary). Voters change constantly on trivial stimuli, which make the polling arts and sciences the Holy Grail of modern elections. As onlookers, we are fascinated by America’s utterly self-absorbed and empty-headed adolescent voters flipping on the new shining objects.

Since the battle is how to win over the always-ready-to-change voter, every election cycle in America is 40-days of hell on earth, with every known trickery and deviltry in play. Every American mind is changeable if the price is right, merely waiting for the devil’s (actually two sub-devils’) best offer. Just now, this seduction is at its fever-pitch best and we cannot predict the outcome. This is our “perfect democracy” and our “political campaign” that the world envies and we want to preserve in America.

Always looking for the best deal possible, even in public matters, every decision we make is always too much and always not enough, and a buyer’s remorse is inevitable. Hence, in America, finding exactly what we want is our daily inferno and purgatory. We always want “more facts” (meaning more offers) before we decide anything.

In our perfectly democratic elections, the president would always be elected by one last voter-baby who must find the “best deal” by Election Day.

Jon Huer, columnist for the Recorder and retired professor, lives in Greenfield.