I know it’s been a while since my last post, but did you really think I’d
miss out on the opportunity to be snarky and inflammatory during election
season? Fear not, my friends.
Perhaps this post would have been more fitting prior to Election Day,
but I guess I was too distracted by the bombardment of political advertisements
whenever I walked/drove/watched TV/listened to the radio/went online that for a
while I was really struggling to view myself as an intelligent, free-thinking
human being capable of making my own informed decisions, let alone writing
about them.
Civic duty swag! |
Anyway, all sarcasm aside (for now), in the wake of the election, I
feel the need to draw some comparisons. This year was my first time ever voting
at a polling station. As a college student attending school out of state, then
as a military member stationed across the country, I’ve always voted by
absentee ballot. My conclusion: it was easy. I ignored the campaign ads and
celebrity endorsements (as much as possible), watched debates, did research
online, walked half mile to the polling station, checked some boxes, got a
sticker, then went home and watched Quantum
of Solace until the news had actual legitimate grounds for announcing some
results.
I was in Afghanistan for the 2009 Presidential and Parliamentary elections.
It was only the country’s second “democratic election,” and the first election
that was supposed to be completely
Afghan-led. In Paktya province, my unit and the units we were stationed with played
a “supporting” role—helping spread information on the election process and
candidates and countering insurgent anti-election propaganda through our "radio in a box" systems, the only thing close to mass media in Afghanistan; assisting with
training and mission planning for the Afghan security forces; providing reconnaissance
and back-up security at the polling sites for several days after they’d been
set up, during the election, and post-election while the ballots were counted
and transferred to regional, then national sites; coordinating supplies, like
tens of thousands of water bottles, for the security personnel at the sites.
Roughly 80% of the local population was illiterate. There were 140
presidential and parliamentary candidates. On the ballot, each was designated
with a set of symbols, which had to be explained by representatives from the
election committee, who traveled (or attempted to, or didn’t attempt to because
they were threatened by insurgents) to outlying areas of the province on
educational missions.
For weeks leading up to the election, insurgents passed out night
letters—threatening messages left in homes or villages in the middle of the
night warning people against voting—and broadcasted propaganda and threats on
mobile radio stations that always disappeared before we could track
their locations. Threats ranged from chopping off voter’s fingers, which were
dyed blue after votes were cast, to chopping off heads.
In Paktya's capital of Gardez, the Taliban claimed responsibility for a coordinated suicide bombing
attack on government buildings that left five people dead, calling it an attempt
to disrupt the elections.
On Election Day, the government ordered a media blackout in an attempt
to prevent news of violence from dissuading potential voters. I sat in our
operations center biting my nails. We had teams standing by for Quick Reaction
Force convoys, ready to leave at a moment’s notice to defend against an attack
or provide medical support. The screens at the front of the room scrolled
through threats picked up by military intelligence, and showed grainy surveillance
footage of local villages. I kept waiting to see a building explode. I kept
waiting to hear the whistle of incoming mortars or gunfire. I kept waiting for
Hell to break loose.
It never did. We fared better than we feared. But still, there were more
than 50 attacks throughout the province.
And violence was the problem we were planning for, but it wasn’t the
only problem. Afghan law requires 27% of parliamentary positions to be held by
females. But in conservative areas like Paktya, many women couldn’t vote
without being escorted by a male relative. Not surprisingly, female voters were
sorely underrepresented.
Post-election, there were widespread allocations of voter fraud, ballot
stuffing and intimidation. In some of Paktya’s villages, the number of votes
cast dramatically exceeded the number of citizens. The legitimacy of the
election was questioned, and a runoff election was scheduled between President
Karzai and his main opponent Abdullah Abdullah.
A month later, we would have to do the whole thing again.
Conveniently, in the way government operations are often convenient,
the end of the election coincided almost exactly with the beginning of Ramadan.
In order to observe this tradition, many of the Afghan security personnel
abandoned their posts. The polling sites were left unsecured.
Ultimately, there was no runoff. Abdullah conceded because he saw the
system as too corrupt with no hope of a legitimate election.
I wondered how much the average citizen knew. Were they aware of the
fraud? The potential for a runoff? That Karzai had been reelected? Did they
have access to enough information to even know their stake in the matter?
Though Afghan citizens are starting to gain access to outside information
through mediums like our radios, much of their programming is produced by the
government. And their main source remains what it has been for hundreds of
years: the local mosque.
So many options . . . so little time! |
I often tell people that they should never rely on a single source for
news. There is no such thing as completely fair and balanced. Every
organization is targeting an audience, lobbying for ratings. Every message,
directly or indirectly, is communicated with the intent of eliciting a certain feeling
or response. So in the wake of this election, amidst the mudslinging that is
still going on not only about candidates but also about FOX/CNN/MSNBC, I just
have to say that I’m grateful to have access to the full spectrum. I’m grateful
to have mass media at my fingertips, in whatever format I prefer. I’m grateful
to have the option to wade through as much or as little information as I chose.
And, though I certainly don’t exercise it as much as some of you (you
know who you are!), I’m grateful for the opportunity to disagree, to debate,
and to complain. You see, in the military you don’t have that option. Military
members cannot express political opinions because they represent the military.
So because I’m no longer beholden to those guidelines, I’ll just say
this: Very few people would argue that there’s nothing wrong with our current
system, and there were definitely things that
frustrated me about yesterday’s election. The fact that the two-party system
has become paralizingly polarized. The fact that the poor economy was
supposedly the #1 issue, but $6 billion was spent funding campaigns. The fact
that my polling station was plastered with campaign signs for a particular candidate
for senate, but not a single sign for the other. The fact that one of the local
ballot initiatives lumped veterans benefits in with unemployment and welfare,
and called for supporting these “assistance programs” with cuts in military
spending. (Am I the only one who finds funding veteran programs by cutting
active military programs ironic? “Military spending” includes troop support
programs, healthcare and protective measures . . . and those—along with “excess”
manpower that certainly never feels excess, especially to those who lose their
jobs after serving faithfully and being promised retirement benefits—are usually
the first things to go. It’s not as simple as just bringing troops home. There is
necessary, and expensive, post-war support. But that’s another blog post for
another time.)
I vote because I can, and because it’s my duty and privilege as a U.S. citizen.
But I also know that voting isn’t enough, that one man or woman can’t make
everything perfect and certainly can’t make everyone happy. And instead of
complaining (or, okay, sometimes while
complaining), I choose action. I choose to educate and advocate, and to look
for—and make—opportunities to stand up for what I believe in, because I’m
pretty damn fortunate to live in a country where I can do that.
So thank you to those of you who voted. You have earned the right to be
excited/angry/vindictive/controversial. Just remember that rants and raves are
usually just rants and raves. And whatever you’re ranting or raving about, please
take a break on Sunday to thank those who have willingly given up their own
rights to do so in order to protect yours.
hello, i did read your blog & your profile, it's quite fascinating. i wonder: once that you served in war, why did you come back to civilian life? do they not allow you to stay more? or could you serve only for a short amount of time?
ReplyDeleteHi, and thanks for reading! When I signed up for the military, I committed to 4 years of service. When the 4 years were up, I had the option of reenlisting and continuing to serve or accepting an honorable discharge. I decided to complete my service and pursue other goals, such as grad school and writing. Though at times it was difficult and frustrating, I don't regret a minute of my military service--it's just a tough pace to keep up with deployments, stress and long hours, and I was ready to move on with my life.
Delete~Lauren
Thank you first and foremost for serving our great country. I appreciate your contribution and sacrifice. Thank you very much for sharing your thoughts here. Take care of yourself!
ReplyDeleteThank you for reading and for your support!
Delete~Lauren