Like so many campaign events this season, I went to the No Kings rally at the South Carolina statehouse Saturday (10/18) to listen. There was a fantastic turnout for the organizers from 50501. Huge congratulations to Sam and Sparkles for the work that went into it.
I set my chair next to a woman who moved to SC from New York. She’s in her 70s, and she came to Columbia from Charleston with some friends. As we sat and watched and listened, the sun was bright and warm and the energy of the crowd palpable.
Sam’s speech was fantastic. He talked about the cause of the event, his own reason for being there (he’s a war veteran who made an oath to protect the constitution), and his desire that the crowd not allow the outrage industrial complex to continue to divide us.
Sam called for a rejection of the algorithm-driven fake news and echo chamber fervor that ignited, fanned, and blazed the flames of hatred among citizens, among neighbors. To use the phrase “outrage industrial complex” is telling because Sam’s point (which is one I share) is that social media, traditional media, individuals, and the two major parties will keep us scrolling and clicking and seething because they profit from it. A message echoed on this podcast about South Carolina politics and this podcast about parenting and politics.
Reject the outrage industrial complex. Seek peaceful resolutions. Love your neighbors. Remember we all want strong communities, healthy children, and a future for our nation that is united and prosperous.
After the bulk of the crowd went off to march to the Governor’s mansion, candidates for office were invited to come up and speak. I was supposed to be second but got bumped to third. The first speaker was someone I encountered at the 50501 candidate forum in Lincolnville back in July. He’s a self-proclaimed Democratic Socialist and he was very angry. He attacked Senator Lindsay Graham on personal grounds. His fervor and profanity had more than one person near me looking away.
I felt embarrassed. Especially when a family with two young children walked by as the speaker hurled an expletive through the microphone.
I climbed the stage to go second only to have my spot taken by a Democrat running for School Superintendent. Sparkles explained that they had let that candidate go ahead of me because she had to leave. I smiled and stepped back and waited and listened.
When it was my turn, the emcee mispronounced my name.
I had not prepared remarks, only relied on my experience as a radio show host to speak clearly about myself, the campaign, and the reason I was there. At some point I said, “The real problem is the two parties,” and someone shouted, “And capitalism!”
I laughed and said, “Well, I teach at the business school so I’m not going to speak against capitalism.” The joke fell flat and my thought process was sufficiently derailed. What had I said? What points had I made? What should I say next? Panic. Faceplant. I hurried to share my website and then stepped off the stage with, “God Bless America.”
Face palm.
What did I learn? So many things. Here’s five.
First, organizers could have removed the protestors with the “Fuck Trump” signs from the stage. In fact, all of the profanity could have been toned down. While I love a good F-bomb, it’s not exactly the peaceful communication Sam was promoting in his speech. I’m not suggesting those protestors didn’t have a right to be heard, but the vulgar anti-Trump messages only fed House Speaker Johnson’s assertion that the rallies were anti-America and full of Trump derangement syndrome.
So, two, there was a lot of Trump derangement syndrome. If you’re not familiar with the term, it’s where people hate Trump so much, they cannot admit anything he does is good. My visit with the woman from New York reinforced that. She said being from New York, she knew what he was like, knew he was useless, and thought everyone who supported him had been duped. The implication was every Trump supporter was stupid. That just isn’t true.
So, three, there was a lot of dysphoria in the crowd. When the person at the microphone spoke against Trump, there was a lot of cheering. When the message was about peace, unity, and rejecting the outrage industrial complex, there was polite applause. It was as if they didn’t realize they had been influenced at all. That their hatred had been planted, sown, tended, and harvested by the very technology oligarchs Sam called out. Our social media algorithms got us here, he said. But now that we’re here, talk to someone new, make a friend, realize you’re not alone.
But, four, people had shown up in groups, in pairs, with their affiliations on their shirts and their clever meme-worthy signs in their hands, ready to selfie and chant. There was an element of performance that felt somewhat disingenuous, like an echo chamber IRL. When I thanked the people for coming out, I meant it. Taking time out of their weekend to show up matters. But I might have been the only one who was there to listen.
So, five, what does it matter? It matters because when millions of people gather, they’re likely to have myriad reasons for being there and, admittedly, finding a unified message can be difficult. The 2017 Women’s March was that way, distorted by alternate narratives and derided by people who weren’t even there.
I loved Sam’s unification message, even echoed it in my own feeble speech, but it wasn’t what people were there for. A lot of them were there to play out, in real life, the outrage they’d been spewing and consuming online. Which is why, I suspect, there was far more profanity than I would have expected.
One of the pre-march speakers talked about the daily vigil they held on the statehouse grounds when trying to get the Confederate flag removed. She said they came every day and waited for the government to take action. One day, a young woman climbed the flag pole and pulled the flag down. The speaker said, sometimes you need that courageous person who won’t wait for others to take action, but who will put themselves out there, at risk to body and future, and climb the flag pole.
On Sunday, our minister at Washington Street Methodist Church spoke on courageous faith. They had sent an organized group to No Kings to stand up against the expansion of executive power, the inhumane treatment of immigrants, and the unlawful bombings of Venezuelan boats. Our minister spoke about having courageous faith and echoed this phrase, “I am willing, God. Send me.”
The event and the church service stirred something within me. A greater purpose, a mission if you will. My regret over my podium face plant is in part because I know we need true leadership at this time. What I should have said when I climbed to the stage at the 50501 No Kings event on Saturday was, “I will be your flagpole climber. I am willing. Send me.” Not for the likes and clicks but for the change that I believe we are due.
While the rally and the march helped me see just how many South Carolinians are unhappy with our current administration, the event also illuminated that there is leadership for the cause of unity, reconciliation, and peaceful solutions. I would like to be one of those leaders.
Admittedly, I need to be better prepared. Such opportunities will continue to come my way as we get closer to the election. I need prepared remarks, a message that resonates, and a way to focus on the delivery not the distractions. My first step in the right direction is engaging a campaign manager, which I’ve now done.
I love what Sam and the 50501 South Carolina group is doing to mobilize citizens especially considering this is not an election year for any statewide or major offices. I love that people are getting involved. I’m concerned they are playacting, performing, in the way they’ve been taught to do by our elected officials who are more interested in optics than substance. If people are in this for the theater, they’ll default to their Team Red / Team Blue habits come election day.
It is the mission of this campaign to convince them otherwise. If we can bring 1 million South Carolinians on board for authentic, lasting change, we can win this race.
There is real work that needs doing. We need people to put themselves forward as candidates. We need people to donate and volunteer for campaigns. We need to break the hold the duopoly has on our government. There is real work that needs doing. We need people willing to do that work, no matter what it costs them.
I am willing. Send me.
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