Scandal, or Listening to the deafening silence.
The race is officially underway to fill a void on the San Jose City Council left by the unexpected arrest and eventual resignation of the former District 3 representative, and the field is filling up fast, with 10 aspiring hopefuls and political hacks already pulling papers within days of the opening bell.
The candidates face an all-out sprint to an end-of-year financial reporting deadline, when they’ll need to show strength in (fundraising) numbers to prove their viability to the cognoscenti who throw their proverbial weight around our local elections. After that, it’s 13 weeks knocking doors in the cold of winter and showers of spring, recruiting a small army of family and volunteers to help, dialing for even more dollars, and posting yard signs in every illegal right of way imaginable.
And in the end, a small fraction of the electorate — already a small fraction of the population at large — will determine the top two candidates who get to do it all over again in late June, when an even smaller fraction will cast the final vote.
Democracy writ large is meant to benefit the majority, but that is seldom the case. Consider, if you will, the representative for a district of 100,000 people chosen by 10,000 voters. And even then only 5,001 votes would be needed to secure victory. Is that democracy of the people, by the people, and for the people? For my fellow Rotarians out there: Is it fair and beneficial to all concerned?
The truth of the matter is there is nothing fair about our elections, and there never has been, from the origins of our nation to the rise of MAGA. And at a hyper local level like city government, the candidates with the most money, the most name recognition, the most friends in high places, tend to wind up in the room where it happens. The rest of us are stuck wondering how the sausage gets made, if we bother to wonder at all. And that gets me to the ultimate crux of this story.
During the council discussion of how to proceed with filling the District 3 vacancy, a point was raised — more than a few times — that the media maelstrom swirling around the disgraced former councilmember and his stomach-churning crimes was shining such a spotlight on the process that voter turnout would likely be higher than one might expect for a special election. To the uninitiated, this might, on its surface, seem like sensible logic. Those of us with advanced degrees in the art of political campaigns know better.
Sure, we understand the correlation and causality between scandal and special election, but we can’t expect the people to make the connection. By the time ballots roll out and campaign mailers and texts and phone calls and door knocks start covering the Downtown district like a swarm of locusts, most voters — even the seasoned among them — won’t even remember the name of the guy who resigned in disgrace, the guy they elected to fill the seat just two years ago. And none of the candidates are likely to mention his name. Their messages may allude to core values like honesty and integrity and transparency, but not one of them will dare address the elephant sitting in a cell at the County Jail.
In the end, it will sound like the same old campaign rhetoric to people who are tired of campaign rhetoric. Local news — outside of insider outlets like San José Spotlight — will continue to cover the scandal and ignore the horse race. and we’ll end up with the same result: 5,001 people electing a new representative for 100,000.
And lest ye, Dearest Reader, begin to think I am just blowing proverbial smoke, I speak from the experience of walking through the fire. In 2013, two powerful Latinas squared off in a special election to replace a Santa Clara County Supervisor who had resigned over a scandal involving misuse of public funds. One of the candidates was a longtime ally of the disgraced former supe, and as a member of her opponent’s communications team, we made that a big deal in our campaign messaging.
Yet when we stared at the poll numbers as Election Day approached, it was clear as the sun on the Del Taco logo that the stench of the scandal hadn’t rubbed off on our opponent — at least not with the one cohort that mattered: likely voters. And in that moment, we knew we were sunk, and the lesson was obvious: People don’t care why they’re being asked to vote. When it comes to local elections, most of them don’t have the slightest concept of the job they’re electing folks to do. We shouldn’t be shocked that turnout is so low and the undervote — people who cast a ballot but don’t vote in “down ballot” races — is so high.
This is not an argument against special elections. And it’s not a rant about voter apathy.
Between this and the alternative of 10 councilmembers who don’t live in the district making a political appointment to serve that district for the next two years, I’ll choose a flawed electoral process. But let’s not mince words here, that’s what it is: Flawed. Broken. Exclusive. This election will be no more representative of District 3’s diversity than 10 people plucked randomly off the streets of Almaden or Mayfair or Evergreen or (god forbid) Willow Glen. And the turnout may not be much better, either.
But when this comes to pass, please, let’s not blame it on apathy or ignorance or any other easy scapegoat. Voters have a right to express their opinion by not expressing an opinion, and we in the political profession have an obligation to hear their silence and work to build the trust, understanding, and yes, transparency it will take to have a more engaged electorate — in District 3, San José, and beyond.
