Controlled chaos.
As a site coordinator for 10 Democratic Party caucuses held last week at Horace Mann Middle School in North Denver, that was the best-case scenario I had expected the night before.
And it was chaotic.
As the evening began, I was immediately overwhelmed by campaign staffers who insisted I was wrong about, well, about pretty much everything. It wasn’t long, however, before their concerns proved secondary: An hour before our official start time, our allotted space — the school cafeteria — was overflowing.
Confusion reigned from the onset. Most people hadn’t a clue as to which precinct they lived in. One woman didn’t seem to understand why she was even there. “Who are we voting for again?” she asked a half-dozen times.
When it was apparent that the cafeteria was crowded beyond fire code and we needed to expand, the challenge became getting those who could not climb the long flight of stairs to the gym to not get lost in the labyrinthine trip to the elevator. If people managed to make it that far, the elevator did let them out in the gym.
Unfortunately, it was the wrong gym.
And even once the precincts were settled, half of the 550 people who turned out that evening had to stand for the next two hours.
As the time for deliberations arrived, I vainly attempted to assure people that the process would be clear. “Just pull out your directions. It will walk you though the caucus, step by step.”
Thankfully, I don’t think most people heard me mutter that, given the confusion, I would be amazed if anyone got elected.
Following the caucuses, there were immediate calls for the process to shift back to primaries. Much more straightforward. Voting can take place all day. Heck, voting can take place at home. No 11th-grade algebra required. No rule reading. No cramming into hot, over-crowded spaces with far too many people.
But before the last vote was tallied that evening, I knew that wasn’t the answer. Democracy is about the people. And, despite its many flaws, a caucus is about the people. I can think of no more fitting manner to elect someone than to meet with my neighbors, debate the multiple sides of an issue, and then stand up for what I believe in by taking a good old-fashioned hand vote. In public. For all to see.
Prior to Feb. 5, I had met only a handful of people in precinct 515. That night, I met 70 of my neighbors. Seventy people who share a vision for our lives, for our community, and for our country, one better than the nation we live in today.
It was the people who made the caucuses successful:
The campaign staffers who had originally annoyed me, who stepped up and helped coordinate the evening.
The woman who chastised me for not listening to her question, who unhesitatingly took on the responsibility of leading the groups that had to move up to the gym and away from my vantage point.
The caucus chairs, who all managed to derive the correct number of delegates for each candidate.
Steve, the facilities manager, who had warned me that the gym teacher would hate it if we moved into the girls’ gym, but when it was inevitable, said only “we were happy to have been able to help.”
It was the huge number of volunteers who had made that evening come to fruition: the party officers, those who had attended caucus training, the campaign staffers, and everyone who ardently pleaded their case that night.
Caucuses are about raw human interaction. People mixing it up and trading ideas.
Primaries may be an easier way to go, but they would never fully engender the feeling I left my caucus with that evening. That this is a country that values its people. Where each and every person plays an integral role. A place in which every opinion is worth hearing and every hand deserves to be counted.
So what if democracy is chaotic and messy? Roll up your sleeves and dig in.
