Covering politics
Lately, I’ve been questioning if democracy works.
Before you call me a traitor and try to impale me with one of those miniature American flags, hear me out.
Thanks to a journalism class, in recent months I’ve been assigned to report on a few city council meetings throughout San Diego. I know the thought of democracy in action makes Americans everywhere get all misty-eyed and sentimental, but what I’ve witnessed would make even Uncle Sam disown the U.S. Let me explain why my faith in the system has been undermined.
The first city council meeting I attended began innocently enough. The council members calmly outlined a three-hour agenda, which began with an open forum for the public and then moved to discussion on scheduled topics. I looked around the crowded room and eagerly awaited a thought-provoking debate. However, that expectation was shattered when an old guy who resembled Clint Eastwood shuffled to the podium and cleared his voice. He started by talking about how the Ford dealership screwed him royally on a recent transaction. Um, I guess that’s semi-topical? He concluded his diatribe by casually asking, “Also, can I bring my gun to the next meeting?”
Not only was the phrasing of the question troubling, but I couldn’t believe this individual was allowed to wield a firearm. Even more concerning was the less than subtle implication that he would cap anyone who disagreed with him. I made a mental note to avoid future meetings at this location for fear of being caught in a hail of politically charged gunfire.
Dirty Harry’s spiel set the tone for the next three hours. The floodgates were officially opened. A horde of people came out of the woodwork and used the forum to level complaints unknown to reasonable members of the public. Mentions of the government secretly controlling us? Check. Accusations of council members stealing? Check.
Despite being cut off on multiple occasions, people continued to make personal speeches in the time allotted for discussing relevant issues such as zoning and taxes. I wished I had a bottle of liquor, not only to subdue the noise of the rants, but turn the ordeal into a drinking game. The rules would be simple. Any mention of the word “conspiracy” would warrant a shot of alcohol.
As a result of these city council meetings, I’ve been acquainted with all kinds of crazy. I’m talking the kind of crazy normally reserved for straitjackets and Sarah Palin.
It certainly made adhering to the neutral principles of journalism in my reports difficult. For example, in one of my reports I erred on the side of caution by writing, “The woman passionately urged the council members to reconsider a proposal.”
Even though I was tempted to write, “The deranged woman didn’t really have an argument, so she resorted to swearing and the use of racism.”
I wish I could say my experience was an anomaly, but these meetings are a microcosm of what’s typical across the nation. For example, a simple Google search of “city council meetings” yields countless videos displaying the same reckless disregard for sanity. In fact, San Diego is apparently tame compared to the fights that break out in Philadelphia or the psychotic accusations of helicopter attacks that are a staple of council meetings in Charlotte, N.C. (seriously, Google it). I’m starting to think even the top tiers of government have been hijacked by other unhinged thinkers. See, apparently crazy is contagious because I’m now proposing my own illogical theories.
I’m not trying to say I want to submit to dictatorial rule or anything; I just have mixed thoughts about our political system.
If nothing else, city council meetings temporarily keep a large portion of crazy people occupied. That’s certainly something I can feel patriotic about.
