Proportional Representation, a mini-essay

You want to abolish “the two party system”?
What you shouldn’t care that much about is IRV for President, instead, what you should want is proportional representation for the house.

  • What is proportional representation, you say?
    It’s a system where you work to make sure that the representation of parties in the legislature is proportional to their representation in the population.
  • How do you do this?
    The two most common ways are the Single Transferrable Vote and Party Lists.
  • So, tell me about Party Lists, then?
    In a party list system, you break up the population into large districts that do not redistrict. Many representatives (or MPs, as they are referred to in Parliamentary systems) are elected per district. The census just changes the number of representatives in each district. At election time, each party publishes an ordered list of candidates. If a district has 10 seats, then a party that gets 40% of the vote gets four seats, and the first four people on their list are elected. Some versions of this system will have rules that create some minimum amount of the vote required to hold one seat.
  • OK, what is this Single Transferrable vote thing?
    Same idea with the multimember districts, but now, voters publish a ranked ordered list for the candidates, like in the IRV proposals. But now, the idea is that you are electing more than one candidate for that district, with the goal of guaranteeing that everyone’s vote goes toward electing *someone* (as in, to balance the “My vote never counts because I’m a democrat in a 90% republican district” error with the “My vote never counts because I’m a republican in a 90% republican district” error) so:
    1. First, any candidate getting more than (100%/number of reps in districts +1) of the vote is elected.
    2. Now, eliminate the last place candidate, and reassign their second place votes to non-winning candidates. Also, take the second place choices of winning candidates beyond the winning threshhold (if it took candidate X 25 votes to win, but they got 39 votes, take 14 votes for the first place candidates and assign them to second choices)
    3. repeat until all seats are filled
  • What is the advantage of these?
    The big one is that they give geographically dispersed minority groups a chance to get representation without weird gerrymanders. If you made California into a single district and elected its house members with a list system, there would probably be Greens and Libertarians seated in Congress right now. The other thing is that they get much closer to “every vote matters”. If there are no longer any 85% districts, and it actually matters whether one party gets 5% more of the vote, then all parties have to stop neglecting any winnable votes. If you need only 1/10 of the vote to elect one out of ten represenatives (in either STV or List), that can be a lot more attainable than having 50% of the vote in a given district. Also, of course, you deal with the “Nader effect” stuff, which is actually more pronounced in countries like Canada and the UK, which have 4-5 major parties, but still use single member districting (ex: anti-Brexit parties actually won a larger vote share than pro-Brexit parties in the 2019 UK general election, despite the overwhelming Conservative win in terms of number of seats). But to me, the main thing is that you really fix both problems with gerrymandering and with having to draw minority-majority districts in robust ways that are difficult to re-break. And with that latter issue, you simultaneously solve the “if you draw a minority-majority district, you further dilute the minority vote elsewhere” issue.
  • Ok, disadvantages, then?
    It can often lead to the spread of a large number of fringey parties. If you need a small dedicated population ONLY to get elected, then you can open the floodgates to some small groups. Examples of this are the Netherlands (there is literally a “people over 65 party”) and Israel (a bunch of parties representing extreme-Orthodox groups have wedged into parliament and had a lot to do with the harsh tenor of post-Barak Israeli politics). I would say that these examples are actually blunted in their downsides in a US context, relative to Parliamentary systems, because the President is independently elected from Congress, unlike the Prime Minister, who is elected by Parliament, so “fractured parties having to work together with shifting coalitions” may be a feature rather than a bug.
  • Disadvantages to the specific forms listed above?
    Well, the Single Transferrable Vote gets pretty unwieldy once you get more than 5 candidates per district — 5 seats x 5 parties = 25 major candidates, so you’re asking voters to rank-choice to 25th place or more, that said, it does give a lot more control to voters about who they want in office, with the fine detail that is given at the ballot. Also, tabulation of results is obviously super complicated mathematically, so there can be a bit of a disconnect between “my vote” and “what my vote means”. A lot of Americans would probably find the central role that List systems give to parties disconcerting, no matter how much Americans view politics in VERY party-centered ways, anyway.

Anyway, that’s my argument. You get many more benefits out of proportional representation for congress than the simple “I want to vote for Nader, but I want to elect gore” arguments for IRV at the presidential level. Thank you for reading through my rant.

Still here, still heartbroken

There’s not a lot to say in this endless isolation. I have an immunocompromised partner, so we’re on strict lockdown through this whole thing. While we wait it out, the situation outside seems to deteriorate more and more. I work my job, I excersise, I pay attention to my loved ones, I donate money to causes, I make calls, rinse repeat. It’s hard to keep up with people because even small talk is kind of impossible in the bottomless sea of sameness and despair at the world.

And it’s hard to feel bad about myself, because my situation is SO EASY compared to what everyone else is going through. I have a job, I’m not sequestered alone. I’m basically fine. All I can do is keep an eye out to help those that need help and try to do my part to fight back this tidal wave of racism, anger, callousness, and rage, and try to see to it that when we come out the other side of this, it will be into a realigned world.

If you’re still trailing along and reading this, thank you, and miss you. ❤

Everyone is wronged, and everyone is the asshole

So, sequestration hasn’t been especially great on my mental health — all of my self-soothing techniques to deal with depression have pretty much been short circuited, but at least I’m not living alone and in a stable and loving situation. I think we’ve all adjusted into this thing, and I’m doing well enough…

But I’m so worried about everyone else. I’m still on a small, select number of facebook groups, and one of them had a good old classic explosion the other day, and it’s still going on. Some of it is legitimate grievances and disagreements that have been brewing, but at the same time, any willingness to give patience and the benefit of the doubt is just straight out the window. And it’s completely understandable. We are all stressed, we all have a viewpoint, and none of us have the benefit of those mirror neurons anymore.

And the thing is, before all of this happened, social media, globally, had become a cesspool where meaningful conversation was straight impossible. The days of “lj drama” look positively idyllic compared to today. It was enough to force my migration here before coronavirus was a household name. I feel that, when we’re all done with this sequestration, the damage done by an unfiltered social media world will be hard to even start to assess.

On rules

So, this is a thing I’ve been thinking about a lot. We all talk a lot of big games about corruption, “bought” public figures, sell-outs, lobbyists, money in politics, and the like. But what I see precious little of is any suggestion of what the new rules should be to root out those things. There seems to be a persistent belief, really amongst both conservatives and leftists, that if you simply put non-corrupt people in power, it all will magically dissipate. Hence why conservative activists can listen to yells to “drain the swamp” without seeing the shallowness of a complete lack of any attempt whatsoever to address problems of corruption, any reforms to the public service, anything. Because, to them, it’s not about rooting out corruption, it is about having someone *on their side* shaming people they *personally don’t like*.

But I’m not really hear to rag on conservatives, though the Trump era makes that simple. I’m here to talk about what changes to laws, procedure and practices should be made to deal with corrupt practices. Without new processes to hold leaders accountable, any yelling about “corruption” is a dead leader, no matter how saintly your leader is. So, below is a non-exhaustive list of the things that your sweetiepoo thinks contribute to our broken, corrupt culture of politics:

  1. The worst is our general, total state of dysfunction with unearned veto points. It isn’t even close to enough that something has the support of two congressional committees, the full house, the full senate, and the President, it needs the approval of the leaders of both houses to even reach a vote in those houses, and it has to pass through a filibuster in the senate. The most basic of reforms would say that you should at least streamline that some, because at any of those points, typically the least public one, interests can step in and block issues from taking the floor, and you can run into crap like McConnell’s categorical blocking of judicial appointments during the Obama adminstration (btw, you could kill both the “it takes too long for anything to go through the courts” and the “Trump and McConnell have illegitimately stolen the federal judiciary” birds with one stone — create new federal judgeships equal in number to the pending nominations Obama had on Jan 20, 2017.)
  2. Similarly, the revolving door crap has to end. A simple ban on any sort of paid work doing political advocacy or lobbying for anyone who has been at a high level of government is just common sense. If that “reduces the quality of people running for office”, I scoff at you. There are legions of exceptional goddamned people working in obscurity without the hope or desire for a high-paying management consulting or lobbyist job. One could also argue that this is hard to define, but a working definition could come
  3. People who make decisions about the economy should not be allowed to hold stocks or run businesses. All personal assets should be mandatorily put into a blind trust, by any high official, be they high level executive agents, the President, Congressmen, or Supreme Court Justices
  4. Any direct dispute between congress and the executive should be in the original jurisdiction of the supreme court and entitled to a speedy decision. The court system is not a way to filibuster arbitrary executive actions until any court decision on them becomes moot.

There are many more other ideas that one could propose. But it’s lazy and dumb to yell about corruption and abuse of power, or to expect it to just go away when someone you like is around. There have to be actual, real rules to constrain behavior, and real consequences when the rules are broken, or it’s all just talk. I don’t have the answers, but I do know that we collectively need to be thinking about the answers.

I liked “The Rise of Skywalker”

There, I said it. It was a lot of blatant attempts at emotional manipulation, and a lot of direct callouts to various complaints over the years, and a lot of the plotting straight up didn’t make sense.

But it’s more “this really could have used a lot more editing” than it was “this was horrible.” But the thing had a much better sendoff for Luke than “The Last Jedi”, and Rey’s arc was great. I will say that I’m a sucker for two plot elements, though:

  1. Unexpected help showing up until it is absolutely most needed
  2. Being terrified that the thing that makes you special is your downfall

So hey, here I am, the cat that knows that its strings are being pulled with the laser pointer, but still wants to chase the fucking dot.

Back in St. Louis

Back home visiting my parents. There was snow on the ground as I drove through all of the old places that the me who existed in high school drove through.It’s been a bit of a spell since I’ve been back here, and I still have a lot of anger built up around not being out (at least my version of out), about all of the things I’ve kind of choked back over the past two decades I’ve been on my own, and really, an especially nasty fight I had with my parents about the election in 2016. They claimed blackout over it, and I believe them, but it doesn’t really do much to block out dealing with those words and where to go from there.

I don’t hear much pressure about grandchildren anymore, but hey, having the “I’m very possibly sterile” conversation with them would be… a doozy too.

But here we are, all of the themes of connection and intimacy showing up again, but here it is about something damaged from when I was younger. I can’t tell if I’ve just gotten old or cold, or if paths have just diverged so much. Or maybe I just need to try harder. I don’t know. I’m glad I’m up here, I do feel like I’m accomplishing something, but, it’s hard too.

On bringing something to the table.

It’s a common thing to say that “being on stage is a privilege,” meaning that if you’re going to get on a stage and demand the attention of people, then it’s incumbent on you to have something to say. And the amount of effort that your ask of your audience should be proportional to what you have to deliver to them (i.e., Anna Karenina asks its audience to go through a long slog of a book, but it has many payoffs for the reader, but if you’re going to throw something nightmarish and inaccessible out there, you should at least have some sort of payoff there if you expect any response other than hostility back at you).

These days, it’s kind of trite to talk about how we are all simultaneously on the stage and spectators, but there is some truth to it, as we each perform our microperformances. And I”m somewhat struck by this acticle that got published by the woman that ran Anacam. In particular, I was really disarmed by this:

“Mostly, that the driving impetus of the collective Internet is an all-consuming desire to say “hi.” I first noticed this when I was in my chat room (then called IRC, or Internet relay chat). At least 75 people were in the chat at the time and at least 15 different countries were being represented. Back then, I was still a bit of a utopian idealist! I thought this would be an opportunity to reach out to all those countries, all at once. I wanted to talk to Russia, Brazil, Ecuador, Japan, Germany, Belgium, Australia, and beyond. “

Let’s get all this bullshit clear and out of the way, I thought. Let’s melt all the toxic residue from the Cold War. But no one wanted this or seemed to understand what I was trying to do. “Wave to me!” “Do you see me? I see you!” was the unanimous cry I heard from my viewers. I realized then that basic human nature needs to feel it is seen and heard. In many ways, nothing has changed since then.

We all have this extremely powerful stage, and this extremely powerful lens that we can use to view nearly everything we want, but at the end of the day, we just want to feel heard and understood. I know that I personally, while I was out on social media, felt like I am constantly in dialogue with a vaguely defined “the consensus” and that I NEVER felt heard or understood, except when agreeing and getting vaguely validative feedback. There were times where I was wrong, and I was happy to have had my horizons expanded, but more often than not, I felt like I was yelling into the void, and the void was simply yelling back.

Which brings me back to here. I’ve opted out of a forum for expression that involves other people providing most of the content and into one that demands much much more of me. I’ve put myself on a stage, and now it’s time to have something to say. Feeling “not heard” isn’t enough, you absolutely have to both have something to say, a perspective with which to say it, and the ability to turn it into something coherent. This will probably be my last “meta-blog” post, but for those of you sticking with this, thank you for reading, and I’ll make myself worthy of being here soon enough.

❤ ❤ ❤ Dahling

Travelling

Spent Sunday-Tuesday in DC on a work trip. When I’m travelling alone, I always dress down into that vague “masc but pretty fond of pink” androgynous look, if for nothing but to avoid TSA-related groping

Anyway, it’s been a while since I’ve had that sort of “you’re not from around these parts” staring on the street. It might have been just my Austin informality, because it seems that the DC way to dress is very monochrome, and that was never me. Or it may have been my fast walking and long hair. Who knows. Maybe it’s just me being less comfortable and feeling like a mark.

In other news, I did successfully participate in my first ever aerials show on Saturday. I look at the video and all I can see is bent knees and un-pointed legs, but it was lovely to participate, and I loved the energy of being backstage, and to feel the lights on me.

The trip also give me a nice bit of time to take off from all of it, and to recenter. And all of it gave me a chance to get photos of me looking like a real aerialist.

It’s one of our favorite events of year — the East Austin Studio Tour and the EAST Student Showcase! This all-ages, family-friendly show is an opportunity for our students of all levels to show off their new skills in a safe and supportive environment. Photo by Steve Rogers Photography. Used under personal use license.

Quiet

So, it’s been a little less than a week before I quit posting on social media. It’s been a bit of an experience, really. I’ve had to learn (relearn?) some emotional regulation for myself. I had a few moments this week where I ran into some coding problems and I didn’t have the immediate vent outlet. Watching the impeachment hearings, and in particular, Sondland’s atomic bomb of a day of testimony, and I had to kind of just… sit on it for a while until I could talk to a human about it.  The world is still turning, and I’m still informed about things, but fuck, I don’t have to live through the ringer of by-the-second updates and opinion about EVERYTHING.

The whole thing has made me just overall, quieter. I think I find myself listening more. I am accomplishing my goal of spending less of my day in a fit of helpless anger. Doing the duolinguo Japanese has been really helpful, so I don’t have to just completely put the phone down, and can instead channel it into something productive. Prepping for this silks piece I’m performing today has also been helpful, as it’s given me an expressive outlet.

But all in all, I find myself feeling like I did when I quit drinking — I just feel more centered by the whole thing. I feel more capable of empathy in the moments I’ve reserved for human interaction. I have more energy to listen, and am finding myself finding my articulation again after several years of screaming in the modern newspeak. Maybe going on like this won’t be viable forever, but it sure as hell feels good.