The Armies of Democracy

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No, the armies of democracy did not wear uniforms. Maybe they should have. To get a little respect.

If they had done what they did a few days ago as a military operation — wearing uniforms, carrying weapons — the world would have been transfixed, our adversaries carried out of the arena in a dead faint. 

By the hundreds and then the thousands and then the tens of thousands, they left their homes in the predawn dark last Tuesday and headed for their assembly points. For a few of them it was just another day on the job, but the great majority were volunteers with a day’s training under their belts. stepping up because someone had to. According to a well-rehearsed plan, they took possession of a critical building in each of their neighborhoods, booted up their complex computerized equipment and donned their face masks. Remember, all this was happening at the height of the worst pandemic, the worst public health emergency, in a hundred years.

By seven am local time they were ready, in every neighborhood in every city and suburb and village and rural county, in every state, in all the six time zones all across the continental United States, Hawaii, and Alaska.  They occupied something like 136,000 venues and numbered close to a million people. No one has an exact count because, remarkably, no one was in overall command of them. They worked for their municipalities according to rules set by their state. 

For the next 12-14 hours, they welcomed their fellow citizens to the venues, verified their right to vote, showed them how to vote, and secured their ballot. Each step, in every venue, was watched by a representative of each of the two major political parties. By 7 or 9 pm, according to local rules, this enormous civilian army had processed an unprecedented 50 million votes (100 million people either voted early — assisted by many of these same election workers — or by mail).

After closing time, after collecting the votes of anyone who was in line when closing time came, after tallying everything and sending the results to the county or city vote-counting center, most of the vast civilian army called it a day and went home.

Except for those who went to the counting centers, where some of them faced another grueling shift, perhaps several more days, of intensive work double-checking and counting the ballots. As they did so they were being maligned on TV, shouted at by demonstrators outside the door, harassed by journalists demanding to know the results, they were being sued and they were receiving death threats. And yet, as the saying goes, they persisted.

Where I voted, and at every venue I saw on TV, I was struck by the sheer professionalism of these people. They were teachers and truck drivers and clerks and retired people, and everything about their comportment, their tone of voice when they spoke, the calm way they moved, said that they knew what they were doing — and why they were doing it. (It also said, as we got to days three and four, that they were really, really tired.)

Finally, on Saturday, the TV networks declared themselves satisfied and called a winner. That took some of the pressure off, but not all. Counting of the last votes continued and would continue for weeks, until finally the states certified to their electoral boards that the count was full and accurate. Then the electors would cast their votes in accordance and then — and only then — would we legally have a president-elect.

By now the million-person army has vanished, not to be seen again for four years. They are still being maligned by some, but when the New York Times asked the responsible officials in every one of the 50 states whether they had seen any evidence whatsoever of fraud or mistakes in the tallying of the votes, the Times got 50 one-word answers: “No.” 

You can have your comic-book superheroes, your gravy seal militias (sausage gravy, I assume), your double-talking, double-dealing national statesmen. As for me, when I think about that million-person army, and what it so casually pulled off last week, I feel  a sense of pride in my country that has eluded me for four years.  

It’s Veterans’ Day. Thank them for their service.

Stock photo of revolutionary soldier reenactors  by alamy.com