Category: Politics

Pick a number: 1, 2 or 3. Remember it, and read this:

We could make ______ illegal. Yes, it would be politically challenging, as people are extremely divided. Those who are for ______ (which includes many corporations and lobbyists) have tremendous political power and resources. Those against ______ would have a hard time getting a majority. We're unlikely to see any change.

But the worst part is that even if ______ were made illegal, that wouldn't stop most individuals. People would find a way to ensure that ______ are available and accessible. They would have ______ in secret. And really, the problems that do exist with ______ would continue, but would be harder to study because ______ would be illegal.

So really, banning ______ wouldn't work. The main effect of changing the law would be to drive ______ underground.

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Now, go back and substitute one of the following words based on the number you chose, and read that again.

1. Guns
2. Abortions
3. Alcoholic beverages

Feel free to try it again with the other two.

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This is one of the many reasons that politics is broken. Issues are framed as extremes, and we all know that nothing will change if we're only focused on some idealized outcome. However:

In truth, we can make real progress on the issue of ______. We can have meaningful discussions about whether or not ______ are a fundamental human right, and if so in what situations. Because even those of us who do think that ______ are an essential freedom that must be maintained, we all generally agree that there are some limits worth at least discussing. For example: should _______ be available to everyone, regardless of their age or mental status?

I know it's hard to talk about ______ without feeling emotional, especially if ______ have had a deeply personal impact on your life. But we must, in order for us to decide, together, what to do next.

That's for 1, 2, and 3. And also 4, 5, 6 and thousands more.

Let's not jump to extremes. Let's try talking.

I am interested in politics, but I don't like how seemingly everything has become political. By that I mean people seem to want to take simple concepts and use them to demonize others.

Here's an example: the idea of doing an experiment. This is giving something a try because you have a prediction of how it might turn out. We do it with recipes and restaurants, hoping the experience will be tasty. We do it when we take a new route to work, believing it might be faster or feel safer. This idea--the idea of doing an experiment--is a perfectly normal activity.

But now I'm going to suggest you do an experiment, on your own. It's going to feel political, because everything has become political.

I want you to open your mouth and cough on the back of your hand. Notice what it feels like. And then I want you to grab one of those face masks that we've all been carrying around for the last year, put it on, and repeat the experiment.

I am not going to tell you what will happen. But I will say that the results of this experiment will tell you something. The question is: are you focused on what occurred, or on how it was politicized?

Try it for yourself. And then decide for yourself what that means.

I was reading about this French police officer named Alphonse Bertillon. About his life, about his work. I imagined all of Alfie’s friends down at the café. I bet they made fun of him. I assume they would tell jokes at his expense. And also, his pals surely worried about poor Alfie when he was away.

Because Alphonse Bertillon started his career at the Prefecture of Police in Paris back in 1879. And he had this absolutely out-of-this-world notion that you could keep track of criminals that were repeat offenders. So he invented the idea of taking and tracking body measurements. Of carefully posed photographs we know as mugshots. Of using a bit of ink to do something called fingerprinting.

No wonder they thought he was nuts.

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I get if if you’re a little concerned about me. This idea of mine—regular person running for Congress as an independent with no real budget—I understand if you’re shaking your head. Oh, Robby.

But I feel a bit like Alphonse Bertillon. And while I recognize it’s egotistical to compare myself to him, it’s not like you had heard of him either.

Yet, he must have believed in himself, despite all the pushback and the low probabilities. He must have had people who listened, who helped, who spread the word.

So that’s what I’m doing, too. I know some of you might be worried about me. But I believe that this—a regular person running for Congress as an independent with no real budget—this is possible. I think it’s something you and I can do.

Thanks, Alfie.

It happened earlier today. I was bringing a bunch of things inside and I must have dropped them. This is because my keychain is damaged and the car keys can slip off. I’ve been meaning to fix this, of course, but we all know how that goes. We all have tasks we are planning to do but haven’t gotten to just yet. I need to repair a part of my keys.

Once I realized they were missing, I began to look for them. I checked inside and out, in the hallway and the stairwell. I peered under the car and in the grass nearby. Nothing.

And then when I gave up to go back inside, I found the tiny, oval-shaped device sitting neatly on the concrete trim outside the building. Someone had found it and placed it there, hoping the owner would see it. Which I did. And now I can drive my car again.

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The reason I am telling you this story is because there was a stranger who did the right thing. And I think stories like this are actually quite common. People do the right thing all the time. They turn in wallets and keys to the lost and found. They help strangers. They hold doors and carry packages and let other people go first. They give to charities, say prayers, and are kind when no one is watching.

If you watch the news, you’re likely to think that most people are horrible. But if you lose your keys, there’s a surprisingly good chance that anyone who finds them will try to help.

Which is why I think there’s hope for politics. Most people are good. Even if we’re often told they aren’t.

Thank you to whoever found my keys.

I was driving down Main Street in Carmel today, thinking about the opportunity to represent the people of our community in Congress. And yes, in case you’re wondering, the idea of that is in fact terrifying.

It’s overwhelming because there’s so much I know that I don’t know. I spot businesses that have sprung up since I was last paying attention. I notice a sea of faces in restaurant patios of people who I have not met. There are construction projects that I don’t recognize. And that’s one street—one I usually drive down a few times a month.

This follows a trip around the district a few days ago, up to Westfield, over to Sheridan, down through Big Springs and then to Zionsville. These are places I’ve driven through before but I don’t know them well. And they are full of people and stories it would take a thousand lifetimes to truly understand.

Because in truth, no one could know all of this. No one could be intimately familiar with every square mile of a single town, much less an entire Congressional district. It’s humbling to consider being elected to this office. Because no matter what one person does—no matter what I do—one can never be completely qualified to represent others. Even with total devotion to service, we will always fall short.

There are other candidates in this race already. Many people have already decided to vote for them. I might disagree with those candidates on policy, on messaging, on the challenges that face us.

But I truly hope that anyone who is running is feeling humbled. I know, every day, that I am.

If there’s anything politicians are known for, it’s finding a way not to answer the questions they have been asked. The art of spin is coming across as confident, knowledgeable, passionate, and empathetic without ever really giving a straight answer.

That’s got to change. I want to answer questions with precision. I aim to tell you exactly what I think. And that includes when what I think is, frankly, that I don’t know.

That also means getting ahead of the process. As with every election cycle, the newspapers will ask all the candidates to answer a series of standard questions. And incredibly, many of the candidates don’t reply to the requests on time.

For 2020, the Current in Carmel asked a total of eight questions. [1] Let’s start with the first, and probably most important one: Why do you want to run for office?

The best way to answer any question is to do so in waves, each one larger and more impactful than the last.

Why do I want to run for office? I believe that people like me—-non-partisan, open-minded independents—-are the people who have the best chance of doing the most good.

Why do I want to run for office? I believe the fundamental problem is not differences in policy, but that the public does not trust in the individuals and institutions who make up our government. Without trust, we are forever trapped in this endless war of fear and lies. I am running to earn your trust.

Why do I want to run for office? Because of ten words: If not now, then when? If not you, then who? This is where we are as a country and a community. We have to stop lying to each other and about each other, and the time to do so is now.

Why do I want to run for office? I am a helper. I am a listener. I am learning every day and am ready to learn more. I am a person that you can trust to tell you the truth, to ask good, fair questions, and to act and vote honorably.

Why do I want to run for office? To serve.

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There are seven more questions the Current asked, which I will cover in posts to come. But I am not done answering this first one. I will be answering the question why do you want to run for Congress until the election is over.

Because if you trust that my why is the truth, then you can trust every word that I say from that point on. And that’s where we have to begin: with trust.

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[1] https://www.youarecurrent.com/2020/05/01/may-2020-primary-indiana-5th-congressional-district-candidates-questions/

It’s back-to-school time as I am writing this post. But this year, it’s different, because this year we are 18 months into the pandemic. And that means we’re not entirely sure what kids and teachers and administrators should be doing.

Some are saying that because young people are very unlikely to catch COVID-19, we should be back to business as normal. Others believe we should require vaccinations for anyone who works in schools. Some people are focused on masks: making them mandatory, optional, or even not allowed.

And because of new virus variants, there is another problem. The data we have is from before these mutations. So how much is that data useful?

The issue, I think, is not properly framed. Because instead of focusing almost solely on what about COVID in schools we should devote time to what is it about schools that makes COVID a problem?

Yeah.

COVID is a problem in schools because our model for education is mass colocation. We require hundreds of otherwise unconnected people from all over to commute to the same enclosed space—every weekday, nine months out of the year.

That’s a recipe for rapid transmission of communicable diseases.

Now that we know the fundamental weakness—the issue behind the issue—we can start to explore what to do. Can we create an education system that doesn’t depend on mass colocation?

This is not easy. We all learned last year that with a camera and a screen we could sort of conduct business and sort of stay in touch with friends and family. But ask any parent or teacher: this did not do much good for kids in schools.

And even if we somehow figured out how to teach completely through screens, we have another problem: kids need in-person supervision. And most parents and guardians can’t do that because they have to work.

So the real, true challenge we face isn’t COVID. It’s that the we can’t adapt to problems like new diseases because our systems aren’t set up for this. We can’t spend time apart without nearly collapsing.

I don’t know how to address this for education in the long-term. But we do have to make difficult choices in the here and now. I know it’s frustrating. I know it’s frightening. I know it’s not the childhood we all had. But if you’re going to bring hundreds of otherwise unconnected people into the same space, we have got to choose the safest option: wear a mask, or stay home.

I don’t like this at all. But if we don’t require masks at schools, we are increasing a risk, right now, that we know exists but cannot calculate. And how we will ever make the big changes that we know are needed if we can’t handle a short-term challenge today?

This is what it means to prepare for the future. It’s to do something today that we don’t want to do because we believe it might help us to have more options in the future.

Please help. The future needs us.

The headlines in the Indianapolis Star at the moment I’m writing this post are about a record number of bodies in the Indianapolis morgue, a shooting on the near east side, and the story of a child predator in Carmel.

I didn’t include the links to these because you would likely click on them, because all that is hard to ignore. Those stories feel like things you need to know more about. It’s “clickbait” to use the modern term. Or if you like older expressions: “if it bleeds, it leads.”

But good news is far less common in the news. We’re likely to put off a feel-good story because it’s not as urgent. And even harder to find than good news are plain old good ideas.

There’s not anything newsworthy about an idea. In most cases, it’s not news, because it’s not new. And even if it is a good idea, people who have heard of it have often already formed an opinion. That makes it hard to have a discussion, because are already starting on different sides and plus this is nothing new anyway.

Borrrrrriiinnng.

This is at the heart of what we must change. If someone mentions an idea, we have to do something other than say “I’m for it” or “that’s a terrible idea.” We have to learn to say, “I do have an opinion, but I’m open to learning more and maybe changing my view.”

Maybe if we started doing more of that, we’d all make the news.

And maybe our politicians would have to try it as well.

I’m going to tell you three quick stories about three real people I have known in my life, except the names have been changed.

Alan is a guy I know who had become estranged from his identical twin brother. They had done everything together as children and even into adulthood, and then opened a small business together. But the project failed and ruined both men financially. They did not speak for nearly two decades. And then they ran into each other at at the funeral of a mutual childhood acquaintance. That’s where Alan and his twin reconnected, forgave each other, and became best friends once again.

Betty is a middle-aged woman I met who had extreme chronic pain. For her, it was debilitating and random. She might be fine for a month, and then have to take an ambulance in the middle of dinner, and be unable to work for weeks. Then, her doctor got her referred to a specialist who put her on new medication. Almost overnight, everything changed, and she has been living for years, pain-free.

Charlie was a dog in a neighborhood where I used to live. His owner kept him chained up much of the time, mostly ignoring the poor creature. Many people called animal welfare services, but the owners were doing just enough to avoid any legal consequences. Finally, the people in the house decided to move out and didn’t want to keep the dog. A neighbor adopted Charlie. Ever since then, that pup was walked, fed, and loved daily, and became a fixture on the block.

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These are not meant to be inspirational stories. Not everyone who has had a falling out can rebuild their relationship. Not everyone with severe health issues will find a miracle treatment. Not every long-suffering animal will be adopted into a loving home.

But: dramatic change does happen. It happens every day. And although it may seem like our government and our Congress is doomed to be broken forever, I don’t think it is.

I think things can change. But that means we have to be ready for everything to be different.

Starting right here, with you and me.

Most people don’t care about politics. This is an undeniable fact, but when I talk about this campaign with people who do like politics, they often get a little frustrated with me. They want me to join a political party, move to a different district, or pick their-side-and-not-the-other-side on a bunch of issues that don’t actually have exactly two sides. They want me to get into their way of thinking and doing politics.

But these political types are the exception. Most people don’t care about politics. Most people are apathetic.

The usual plea is that you should be thinking about it because it’s so important and fundamental. That politics is personal, that laws and government are hugely important. The main persuasive argument here is guilt. Or fear.

But I disagree. Politicians have not given you much reason to believe that your involvement in politics actually matters. They have been taking money, doing what the people with the money want, and being less than honest along along the way.

So it makes sense that most people don’t care about politics. And while I would love for you to find it fascinating, we aren’t there yet.

First you have to trust that a politician is actually listening. And so, here we are.

This project is a longshot. Elections are usually won by the people you expect to win them: party members with tons of financial backing and good connections. But right now, politics and government feel so broken, breaking all the rules actually feels viable.

In fact, it’s starting to seem like this is the only way we’re going to get anything other than more-of-the-same.

But how? I do intend to be successful in my candidacy for Congress, and I have a three-part plan:

1. Listen, Ask Good Questions, Tell the Truth

I wrote about this once already, but there is more to say. I don’t think most people in government are doing much listening. I say this because once in a while there will be a “town hall meeting” or a “listening tour” and that gets a ton of press, but generally what you hear from elected officials are the same talking points you hear from other officials in their same party.

Nor are the questions all that intelligent. They usually seem to be more of the gotcha variety than the tell-me-more variety.

And I don’t think I need to explain much the need for politicians to actually tell the truth.

2. Talk To Everyone—Especially People Who Are Usually Ignored

Almost everyone that a politician talks to is a person who can write them a check. But that’s not most people. Maybe 1 in 20 Americans have ever donated to a political campaign. [1]

I am most interested in talking to the other nineteen. People who are poor, or who are rich and don’t care about politics. People who have questions and needs and are frankly fed up with the process.

You know, normal people. Like me and you.

3. Seek Trust, Not Money

I have no problem with money. But I do have a problem with money in politics, because the people who are spending the money are the ones writing the laws. [2]

What I really need is a currency which is far more valuable: trust. I need you to trust me. Because if you trust me, you’ll tell your friends about me. And if you and you friends trust me, I have to do something which all the money in the world can’t do.

I have to keep your trust.

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That’s my plan. Questions?

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[1] https://www.politifact.com/factchecks/2020/jan/24/andrew-yang/what-percent-americans-donate-political-candidates/

[2] https://www.usatoday.com/pages/interactives/asbestos-sharia-law-model-bills-lobbyists-special-interests-influence-state-laws/

Your government does lots of things. Builds roads, maintains parks, delivers mail, and inspects produce. The government also provides flood insurance, manages air traffic, funds scientific research, and monitors the weather.

The number of activities is mind boggling. But what makes it even more complicated is the organization. There are levels of government and divisions of government. You probably live in a town or city, which in turn is within a county, which is part of a state. All of the states and territories together form the entire country.

Likewise, your local municipality has departments: police, fire, public works, and so on. There may be city inspectors for electrical work and city planners figuring out where to place the next traffic signal or roundabout. Your state, too, has departments: one focused on statewide commerce, and other on statewide education, another on statewide agriculture, and so on.

And then there is the federal government which is mainly responsible for interactions among the states and with foreign nations. Except also quite a bit more, as the entire United States has a Department of Education, a Department of Transportation, a Department of Veterans Affairs, a Department of Defense, and plenty more.

This is all stuff you may be vaguely aware of, and for which you may have questions or concerns. Because one of the biggest issues with our government is understanding not just what it does, but where in the bureaucracy that work is conducted.

This is a key part of what I think it means to be a member of Congress: navigating the government for you, explaining what it does (and doesn’t do), and working with you to make changes we agree are the best.

Because we have an Office of the Comptroller of the Currency. We have an Office of Information Policy. We have an Administration for Community Living.

Right now, I don’t know much about any of these. But I will learn. I will become an expert on the government that should be working for all of us.

That’s a promise.