Republican State Convention

To the editor:
    I am a new-join to the Republican Party, shaken from my apathy by an increasingly intrusive and demanding government. I wanted to show my support for Ron Paul, who has spent the last thirty years in the House fighting a losing battle against the inexorable march of big government. I thought that if enough people showed up and made our voices heard, we might make an impact. I thought that if enough people within the party expressed their desire to roll back the Federal Monolith, perhaps our Senators and our Representatives might convey our message to Washington.
    To this end I showed up at the County Caucuses in February, registered as a Republican, and promptly became a delegate to the State Convention by virtue of being one of the two Haynesville people to show up. I wasn’t expecting miracles, of course, just the chance to express my dismay at the increasingly larger role the government plays in our daily lives. I thought that our presence would, at the very least, shake things up a bit.
    Instead, I found out the truth about party politics. I though that a political party was supposed to be group of like-minded individuals who associated because of a common system of political beliefs. However, I found the Maine State Republican Party to be filled with intellectually lazy schemers whose loyalty to the party trumped the dictates of conscience, of common sense, and even the United States Constitution, a document Republicans were supposed to revere. My two days at the Republican State Convention reaffirmed by belief that party politics are detrimental to the democratic process. From start to finish, the convention was nothing more than a charade, a pageant of lights and bagpipe music and hackneyed political grandstanding.
    Ann Robinson is listed as the Convention Chair on page 19 of the program, which was printed before the election of officers took place. The “election” of convention officers was simply well-choreographed parliamentary ballet, and a fantastic waste of time and money. No one benefited from the herd of suit-wearing mimes doing their best to create the semblance of an election. If the party officials were certain enough of Ann Robinson’s election that they could print her photo in the program, why have the election at all?
    The elections for the national delegates, which were ostensibly the reason we were all there in the first place, were handled as if they were nothing more than an afterthought. The Second District finished electing delegates in less than half an hour. Nominees were given no time to speak on their own behalf, or even presented to the delegates at all. Only their names and a 30-second nominating speech were provided to help the delegates choose. We didn’t know what motivated them to wan
t to be a National Delegate, what experience they had, what they hoped to accomplish. It was another ballet, another waste of time, a sacrifice of plain dealing on the altar of Party Unity. The “At Large” delegates read like a Who’s-Who of Maine party Bigwigs. Again, why have an election at all?
    Regardless of Ron Paul’s chances to win, he has not withdrawn from the race. He is still a legitimate candidate seeking the Republican nomination for President of the United States. He deserves, at the very least, some consideration for four decades of public service and an unwavering dedication to his principles. What he received at the Convention was a time-slot for a 30-second video, which was played during the lunch break while most of the delegates were in line at Wendy’s. Senator McCain, on the other hand, received adulation from Senator Snow, Cal Thomas, and even his former presidential rival, Mitt Romney, while the majority of the delegates basked in happy mass-hypnosis, allowing “Party Unity” to wash over them like a tidal wave of warm, tasty butter, as if the reasons they had chosen Romney over McCain at the caucuses had melted away.
    My experience at the convention showed me the reality behind the lights and the balloons and the speeches. The convention had nothing to do with re-affirming belief, making choices of any kind, or rallying the troops for the Big Battle in November. Simply put, the convention had two purposes: to collect money and to reward Republican Party insiders. If this is what politicians do with the money that people give them freely, it’s hardly surprising to see what they do with the money they take by force.
    There was one bright spot to my experience. I’ll never forget the Ron Paul supporters, standing in line to nominate alternates to the National Convention, knowing that it would come to nothing, but refusing to give up. It was the convention equivalent of the Charge of the Light Brigade or the last stand at the Alamo. Their dedication gave me some hope for the future.
    If any party honchos are offended by my depiction of the convention, and would like to punish me by banishing me from the party, be my guest. But before you do, please take one piece of advice. Don’t let the brass band play “Happy Days are Here Again” at your next convention. The band played it while the votes for the At Large delegates were being counted, and no one seemed to realize that they were listening to Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s theme music at the 1932 Democratic Convention.
Michael LaReaux
Danforth