Get Out the Vote & Hope
I wrote the following two weeks before the November 8th 2016 presidential election. I’m posting it for the first time today on Midterm Election Day 2026 because the lesson I learned after a conversation while volunteering at a get-out-the-vote call bank still holds. That the greatest freedom is the freedom to not become the very thing you’re fighting against. Tyranny.
…
Walking into the phone bank I was met with a cacophony of voices and frenetic activity. Five rows of calling booths, each one with just enough room for a laptop and space to rest your elbows. Some caller’s voices were loud — probably so they could hear themselves above the noise; others were inaudible making them appear to be moving their lips without speaking.
It was two weeks before the November 2016 Presidential election the atmosphere was buzzing with an electric mix of excitement and anxiety. Who will be the next president? My friends and I were hoping for Hillary Clinton or Bernie Sanders but of course Donald Trump was a possibility, so we made sure to do our part to get the vote out by volunteering at the local phone bank.
After a fifteen-minute training I took a seat and read over the script before making my first call. We were given strict instructions to not ask who the person was planning to vote for, but to focus ONLY on reminding him or her to be sure to get out and vote. I couldn’t tell if any volunteers were adhering to this rule or not but I definitely picked up on tones of frustration in the room not to mention clenched hands, head shaking and expressions of disappoint on some volunteer callers faces. The goal of the call made sense to me. We were calling into purple states and so the chances of calling someone who has a different political opinion were 50/50.
But as odd as it sounds, I was intrigued by the opportunity to engage with the other side. I don’t enjoy getting into a fight. Definitely not. But I value conversations where I can practice what I preach. And something I value more than anything is being able to disagree without hating or even judging the opponent. I used to think it’s about being nice, but it’s not that at all. It’s beyond surface words and gestures. How we fight, or disagree is in large part who we are.
In his tour of Jefferson’s Monticello estate in Virginia, the renowned philosopher, professor, and author Jacob Needleman (October 6, 1934 — November 28, 2022) recounts in his book The American Soul how powerful it was to witness the bust of Hamilton positioned directly across from Jefferson. What made it remarkable, Needleman writes, is the fact that Jefferson himself placed the bust in that specific position despite the fact that he and Hamilton often opposed one another. This prompted his question, “Is this at the heart of democracy? This valuing of the other even when he opposes me?” (pg. 288)
As I made my way through the call list, some conversations pleasant and easy, others less pleasant. (Naturally, there were a handful of folks who out of defiance or just plain meanness reacted with some version of, you and your candidate can go to hell!) Over all it was a positive experience. And then came Tom.
“Hi, my name is Robin calling to remind you to vote this November, is this Tom?”
“Sure is. Hi Robin.”
“Hi there. Are you planning to vote and do you know where your voting location is?” I ask assuming he’d appreciate the reminder.
“Yes, I know where it is, and I know who I’m voting for,” he says in a tone that signals are we done here? And before I can say anything else, he adds, “I’m sure as hell not voting for more government — I want real change. I’m voting for Trump!”
I learned from years doing cold calling in sales that when a person responds with their guns already locked and loaded (so to speak), the best response is to just listen. But in this case, Tom didn’t say another word. But nor did he hang up like previous callers who seemed threatened by someone reminding them to vote. I thought about Needleman’s question and about what it means in the moment to value the other. This helped me relax enough to respond without getting defensive on the one end or robotic on the other.
Get Robin Fletcher’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
“It’s your right to do so. We all have that right. The important thing is that we get out there on November 6th.” Hearing myself say this felt good because it was true.
“Yeah, right. You called to get me to change my mind. I know how you people are,” he says with hardened certainty.
“Nope, I didn’t. My goal is that every person votes his or her choice.”
“Well, that’s my choice.”
“Ok,” I said. I probably should have ended the call at that point, but had a surge of energy and ad, “The ability to vote is a right of every citizen. It’s more important than our political identity. The fact that we can have this conversation — and agree to disagree — is worth protecting. Don’t you think?”
After a long pause he blurts, “Of course I think!”
“That’s not what I meant Tom. I was saying that we should vote so that we can protect our right to agree to disagree. And I’m genuinely curious what you think about that?” I hoped my softer tone would make it easier for him to hear my question but also because the trainer who instructed me to stick with the script was within ear shot.
“Well, that’s all well and good but you want your man or your woman
in office as much as I want mine,” he says with sarcastic emphasis on the word woman. “There’s nothing more to discuss.”
Tom was correct. I did want my person to win and I believed that I was absolutely right in my position. But I was bothered that he seemed to be missing the point that the fact we can disagree and have both votes count is an enormous privilege and worth protecting. I considered re-stating this but looked down at my call-list and realized I had a lot more calls to make so let it go.
“All I’m saying Tom, is that I hope that we can all go to the poles and vote without becoming polarized,” I say hoping the play on words will bring levity to the moment. It did not.
“Hmmmmm…well I want my man to win.” Click.
I can’t say I felt great about the conversation, but I was glad that we could even have the conversation. I finished up the calls on the list and shared about the day with my friends. I didn’t go into detail about the call with Tom because I didn’t really know what to make of it. But reflecting on the conversation that evening, I searched for the section in American Soul where Needleman expands on his original question about valuing the other. I felt I may have missed the mark. He writes,
“I believe there is another democracy waiting to be born within the heart of the flawed, but resonantly symbolic democracy within which we all now live and move…The question is: can the ideals of democracy remind us that we need to become what John Dewey called democratic individuals: men and women who are inwardlydemocratic, who are able to step back from the personal emotions in order to allow the other to think and speak and live. Democracy, in this sense, refers not only to an outer form of government, but to a power within the self.” (pg. 289)
I closed the book with a renewed perspective. I may not have been able to “step back” from my personal emotions especially when tempted to reiterate the point about the privilege of voting. But what I discovered was that the effort to strive for what Needleman describes as being inwardly democratic is worth it. It was in letting go of my need to get my point across, that I was able to act on a more important point. That people matter more than being right about one’s opinion or ideology. I’ll be exercising my right to vote come November 8th, but I’ll also be making the effort to understand what this means to be inwardly democratic every day. Because when you think about it, if our vote counts on a single day, why wouldn’t an effort to be inwardly democratic count on any day? Both give me hope.
