What I learned from the Iowa Caucuses

On February 3, Wayne and I took part in our first Iowa caucus. We had a unique, energizing, and exciting night, and then we went home.

It might have also been our last. By the time we got home and turned on CNN, it was clear that all hell had broken loose. In the following days, Iowa, typically basking in its once-every-four-years media darling status, became the target of the most condemning, snarky, disdainful commentary I’ve ever heard directed towards an entire state. Makes you question whether all publicity really is good publicity. 

That night, politicos waited … and waited … and waited for the results, nay, for a mere clue as to what had happened that night. 

I knew. I was there. And I’d like to share what I learned. Not because it matters to the outcome of that contest (if we ever get one), but because it seems relevant to the bigger vote coming down the pike.

First things first: if you’re interested in how the process all went down in our precinct (voting district), read on. If you’d rather cut to the analysis, click here. 

After first alignment.

THE CAUCUS PROCESS

My experience was colored by the fact that I served as a Precinct Captain for Mayor Pete’s campaign, and when I say “served,” I mean “had a clue what was supposed to happen.” As captain, I sat through caucus trainings. I phoned into weekly conferences where Pete and special guests like Michael J. Fox gave pep talks. I met with my precinct team to discuss strategy. I did worksheets on caucus math (not that hard, people. Andrew Yang is on to something. If we can’t do this math, America is really in trouble). 

So, we were ready. And what happened for the average caucus-goer at our precinct was the following sequence of events. By the way, I can reconstruct this rough timeline because all Pete captains were asked to report results in real-time via text. For those of you who wonder why Pete claimed victory that night …. Well. It’s because he had people in every precinct reporting everything as it happened. We sent numbers, photos of any reporting sheets, names of the eventual delegates, etc. Our local organizer had all of her captains on a mega-text-thread, so I also knew how neighboring precinct counts were going. I’m not sure if every campaign collected as much unofficial data; I know Yang had an app for his captains. It was certainly a good idea. 

Before 7PM: you arrive at your precinct caucus site. For us it was a school cafeteria. Thank goodness there were chairs (though not enough). I’ve been to too many campaign events where they expect everyone to stand for hours. You wait in line to check your name off of a voter registration list. If not registered, you do so on the spot.

7PM: everyone who’s in line at the moment can finish registering, but we get started. Democratic party volunteers who serve as Precinct Chairs and Secretaries do routine party business, like see if any elected officials want to address us. 

We do a count of everyone in the room. This turns out to be harder than it sounds with about 200 people, even if they are adults instead of squirmy kids. We counted twice. 

7:45PM. The chair announces our count and the number of delegates our precinct gets: 5. Because this is a normal-ish size precinct, our viability threshold is 15%. Every candidate must get 15% of the group to remain viable. 

Us precinct captains are given one-minute for a stump speech. I thought the “one-minute” was a rough estimate, but I was cut off before I had gotten through half of the micro-speech I’d planned. A one-minute speech about who should be President is tough!!

We do our “first alignment.” Which means all of us gather into corners based on our preferences. Team Pete had arrived hours early and festooned a corner of the cafeteria with our signs. We gather a good crowd but the frontrunners all seem to have equal-sized groups. I don’t see a Steyer or a Yang sign. A few undecideds sit nervously in the middle of the room. At least, they looked nervous. 

8:00PM. We count the groups twice, precinct captains first, and then the officials to verify. We are viable, thank goodness. Warren isn’t. Nor is she in the precinct meeting in the gym next door. She’s close, though. Steyer and Yang have maybe 1-3 people each. I wonder what will become of the delicious cookies the Warren organizers have brought. There are so many left. 

New this year: preference cards. If your group is viable, you fill out a card with your candidate’s name and you’re all set. This is the added paper trail that would serve to be so important. I make sure everyone in Team Pete fills theirs out because that serves as another check of our numbers.

8:20PM. Now. We do a ten-minute “realignment,” which means the Warren, Steyer, and Yang folks have to find a new group or go home without being counted. Most realign. We gain a few. Members of Team Pete approach the undecideds and ask them what their questions or hot-button issues are. Some have lots of great questions; others look like they will wilt from the pressure and just want to disappear.

8:40PM. We recount the second alignment groups. Pete, Bernie, Biden, and Amy are all viable. Pete has the biggest count and gets 2 delegates. Everyone else gets 1. Newcomers to our group fill out their preference cards and we collect them all. We have a result! 

It’s almost 9PM before we get to this point … and we’re not even a big precinct. People mostly leave quickly, with the rest of us electing delegates, checking the chair’s math, signing off on results, and cleaning up. After we left is when the chair had to do the doomed reporting, so I can’t say I had any visibility on that.  

I don’t know how CNN thought they were going to get results anywhere near 10PM Eastern Time. By the time we get home a half hour later, the complaining about non-results is already in full-swing. We leave CNN on even though I’m pretty tired from the day. There’s something exhilarating about knowing way more than everyone on TV. 

WHAT I LEARNED

Maybe my elementary school teachers did a good job talking up the U.S. of A, or maybe I’ve been to enough countries where voting is not a given, but every time I participate in the democratic process, I feel a little surge of hope. This was the same feeling, just amplified. 

For all of the caucus’s many faults, experiencing democracy in this manner really highlighted a few realizations that I’ve never gotten from just depositing my ballot into a box. 

Face-to-face meetings matter

There is more information on all of us than ever before floating around the internet, but what this experience has proven to me is that you really don’t know a person until you look them in the eye. We Iowans were so lucky to have every major candidate in our state multiple times. I got to see everyone except Bernie, to see how they presented themselves, how they responded to questions, how they interacted with staff, how they made each person in their town hall feel. And I have to say it added a dimension into their character beyond how they presented on tv. 

The same was true for those of us in the caucus. Do we really know our neighbors anymore? I see their comments in our Facebook neighborhood groups; I wave as they pull into their driveways. But do I ever gather with them to talk about our greatest fears and hopes for the country? The caucus was our chance to do just that. There is something about spending time together in a common pursuit that helps build a sense of community. In a world where many individual and societal ills are fed by a feeling of isolation, feeling more connected to the people who live where you live can never hurt. 

Issues matter

Talking to the undecideds was definitely the most interesting part of the caucus. We only had a handful of them. Of the ones I talked to, they seemed to want more information on particular issue. For one woman, it was whether Pete would ban assualt-style weapons (she joined us). For another, it was how Pete would introduce universal healthcare (she thought Warren and Bernie’s proposals too disruptive). For yet another, it was how Pete would deal with the costs of higher education, including student loans (it seemed important that any aid be targeted to those with lower incomes). 

I was surprised. I had heard that caucusing was a popularity contest, as in, the Bernie folks look the most fun, so I’ll join them! What I found instead were people deeply concerned about a certain aspect of our country’s wellbeing and wanting to find a position that spoke to them. Issues mattered, and nuanced, detailed answers, rather than soundbites, were expected. 

Another thing that made the difference, despite the protests of my friends on the urban coasts (I can hear them groan already), is who could best defeat Donald Trump. This seemed to boil down to a very practical goal of predicting who the rest of the country could get behind. I wondered if that’s why Warren didn’t move on, and why many people seemed to come over to Amy and Pete in the realignment rather than Bernie. Smear “electability” all you want. People in my precinct were worried about finding a candidate that most Americans could see themselves supporting. 

Getting involved matters

There’s been a lot of talk about voter turnout, and certainly conversations about barriers to participation will intensify as we hurtle towards November. These days, when millions of Americans can vote for the next American Idol via text while plopped on the couch, the caucus was no small ask: convene during the prime evening hours, come after a long day at work, find street parking, sit (or even stand) around for hours, and be mostly quiet and attentive. Even for an able-bodied adult, it’s an investment of time and energy, but there were people who brought their young kids, equipped with games, books, and snacks. There were old people who hobbled in with great effort. There were carpools organized by volunteers to ferry people without transportation back and forth. And still I know of many who couldn’t make it. This is clearly not the easiest way to vote. 

For that reason, I was grateful that I went because I could. I was even more touched by the people who had gone to much more effort. Showing up shouldn’t be taken for granted. And we need to continue working to diminish the barriers that suppress participation.

Getting involved also matters because you get to know the people in your community who take personal responsibility for the democratic process. For me, meeting fellow volunteers and seeing their ethic of service is definitely one of the most rewarding parts of being part of a campaign or election. For example, one woman on my Pete team works in the penal system, teaching classes to men and women convicted of domestic abuse to help them break the patterns that landed them in jail. Another was a public schoolteacher her entire life and now in her retirement volunteers for elections at all levels of government. Our precinct chairs and secretaries running the caucuses were volunteers from the Democratic party (one wonders how late they were up that Monday night).

I’ve lived in a number of states, and I’ve never witnessed the scale of this kind of effort before. In Iowa, democracy is serious business. There have been thousands of volunteers across the state giving up their free time for months, helping turn one little cog in the machinery of freedom. I’ll admit, there were nights where training was the last thing I wanted to do, but then I’d show up and there would be a single mother there, or someone who had to get up at 3AM the next morning for work.  Seeing their commitment to action was inspiring.

How we treat each other matters

The key question on every volunteer’s mind going into the caucus is, how do you convince someone to see things your way? In the current atmosphere where we are more apt to sling nasty articles and biased graphics at each other online, it’s an open question. 

I believed this before the caucus, but I believe it even more strongly now: the only way to convince someone of something (other than what he/she secretly already believes) is by your example, not your words. Basically, are you a person they know and respect? Then they will listen. Otherwise, your talk will at best do nothing and at worst alienate them.

I want to illustrate this to you using Mayor Pete’s campaign, not only because I know that campaign best, but because I really do believe in him as a candidate. As a Pete volunteer, one of the first things you are told about is the Rules of the Road, the values that everyone representing the campaign should embody at all times. These were posted everywhere in the field office and referred to in every meeting. Here they are: 

I believe these values are a huge part of Pete’s success to date. I say this because it’s true for me. I hear these values, particularly “belonging” and “respect,” whenever I hear him talk, and more than any policy proposal, I believe that these values are what we desperately need to get our leadership back on track. I particularly like  “joy.” I want to get back to a place of joy in our country, rather than a stew of nastiness and negativity. It’s been so many years of negativity. There are of course lots of reasons why I think Pete is the best choice (which I’d be happy to talk to anyone about), but for now I’m just focusing on the core values of the campaign.

The Rules of the Road are not just lip service; we were instructed in how to manifest them in every interaction. Some of the most actionable tips:

• Never talk down another candidate.

• On any issue, validate the concern, find common ground, offer why you think Pete addresses the issue, and invite the other person to engage.  

I’ll admit, I tripped up a few times on Facebook by airing my grievances with other candidates and I’ll tell you, it never, ever went well. As Pete gained ground and the Iowa contest became more intense, I respected how his organizers stayed upbeat, positive, and message-focused in what became a nastier game. We even received reports that other campaigns were planning to sow chaos and discord at the caucus as part of their strategy, but we were instructed to stay disciplined.

This is all good and touchy-feely you may say. But does it work, or just make us weaker? I’ll tell you what I saw from the caucus. I had made a decision that our team vibe was going to be welcoming, warm, joyful, substantive, organized, and never condescending. In my stump speech that night, I decided to emphasize the need for an America where all, regardless of skin color, economic status, or other background, feel they belong. And looking out into the crowd, I felt people listening. I think that openness, rather than admonition, made undecideds willing to talk to us at the same time they were unwilling to talk to other campaigns. I think it made our group a lively one with smiles that perhaps drew some people in. And I know it made an impact on the people who thanked me at the end of the night. 

Can I prove any of this? No. But the Rules of the Road made a difference for me. They gave me the confidence to engage with people in a way that I can believe in, that I can aspire to. All of my interactions at the caucus were positive because I was sure of my approach. Ultimately, I think the Rules of the Road should guide all of our political conversations. It sure beats the alternative. 

After the caucus, I am more convinced than ever that to be an influence, you have to be an example. It’s a high bar not only for our candidates (all of whom deserve respect for their public service), but for ourselves. Taking personal responsibility and respecting others is way harder than just posting snarky pseudo-news about candidates on social media. But I think it’s the only way we’ll get back to the America that I love. For me, America’s greatness is not about our GDP, our global corporations, our military might, our cultural exports. Yes we are fighters, but we also act for peace. Yes, we are individuals, but our demographics are diverse. Yes, we value hard work, but we also want to live joyfully. And deep in our hearts, I think Americans are optimists daring greatly to hope. At least, I think we still are all of these things -- I glimpsed some of it that cold Iowan night.