4
HOSTING
Much—OK, most—of this presidential campaign will be waged with smartphones and computers, with people engaging with their devices at home, in the workplace, even on the street. That’s a lot of screens and a lot of media, social and otherwise. Digital detox is important in life—I know when I am away from my phone for even a couple of hours it seems like a three-day vacation. It’s important in politics too.
Everyone could use a break now and then. So get together with your campaign friends and colleagues in person. Throw a house or apartment party. It’s a homely subject, I admit, but it would be hard to exaggerate its importance.
In the Obama campaign in 2008, we broke new technological ground with our national house parties. Then-Senator Obama appeared via a livestream on computers in homes throughout the country. There were some technical glitches, and that technology now seems prehistoric, but our people loved the parties. It’s something we carried forward in both campaigns, and most important, our volunteers carried forward on their own. No command and control needed.
There is just no doubt that these parties really create a sense of shared purpose and a comforting conviction that together you can get all the work done, and win.
In 2020, the candidate and you will use the very latest streaming possibilities. I can imagine our nominee appearing at the house parties by hologram—a technology I believe was first used in political campaigns by India’s prime minister Narendra Modi in 2014.
Of course you do not have to wait for the national campaign to organize your own house parties—and may I suggest that an excellent time for your first party is right after the primaries are over and we finally know who our candidate will be. Bring together a range of friends, families, and acquaintances, good Democrats all who will have supported different candidates over the preceding months. For those whose choice or choices didn’t prevail, take a moment to console yourselves, remember the highlights of your adventures, brainstorm about how everyone will now shift gears and build and strengthen the local organization for our nominee.
For those of you who were with the winner all along, listen and learn from those who were on the other side. Losing isn’t easy. People usually don’t respond well to, “OK, we won, you lost, now let’s all get in line.”
Let them process and let them add to where your campaign in the primary was weak.
And speak your mind if you were on the losing side of the primary. If you supported a candidate who had outsized appeal with certain sectors in your community—maybe younger voters or blue-collar men or college-educated women—you need to talk about your attraction to your candidate in the first place and explain how you will use that passion and knowledge to try to create and maintain support and enthusiasm for the winning candidate in those important segments of the Democratic constituency.
This is the time to have every single voter acknowledge that the prelims are over, and now we have one and only one opponent: Donald Trump. We need everyone who worked in the primaries to throw themselves into the general election campaign with full force. Nothing else should distract us, not old differences, old grievances, nothing.
I hope this won’t be too hard, not in 2020.
I experienced firsthand the importance of this healing and uniting process following the Obama-Clinton primary in 2008. That was a rough battle—much rougher than the Clinton-Sanders primary in 2016. In the aftermath, our campaign didn’t do everything right to bring the sides together, but our principal did, and so did Senator Clinton. They set the right tone so that those of us at the staff level could follow their lead, though it was admittedly really difficult to just drop the weaponry one day and pretend we were all one happy family the next.
Primaries are often more intense than general elections in the lingering hard feelings they produce. There are still older Democrats throughout the country who identify as Carter or Kennedy followers, just like there are younger voters who are Obama or Clinton Dems. These are family disputes, always the rawest kind, and while our candidates in the primaries have differences on issues, they share much more common ground than not. The key differentiators are therefore more personal—character, style, background, performance, age. Those distinctions create much more heat and passion than Democrats versus Republicans on issues, which are now, profoundly and sadly, already baked into the cake.
In 2008, postprimaries, time was of the essence, and we had to unite. The general election was only five months away. Beating John McCain was not going to be easy. The political oddsmakers had it at 50-50.
Hoping to bridge any divide, I attended any number of events with passionate Clinton supporters. I soon learned that the less I said, the better. Let Clinton’s supporters vent about some of the things said or done during the primary that they thought had been unfair. Let them express their unease about truly being welcomed by the Obama forces in their city or community. Share their concerns about Obama’s ability to win. Share their disappointment that Clinton was not going to be on the ticket as the VP, which we made clear early in that search process.
Where I had something meaningful to say or could allay concerns, I tried, but largely these sessions became opportunities for the losing candidate’s supporters to process everything with one another—and occasionally direct their shared frustration at me. By the end of this outreach, we had laid the foundation for most of them to join in common cause with Obama supporters to focus on the shared goal of winning back the presidency.
In 2020, given the lengthy list of viable candidates, a great deal of such processing could be necessary among the official campaign workers and their volunteer supporters at your house party, and this can be the most effective catalyst for turning the page. Conversations among a bunch of committed Democrats in your cozy home will be far more effective, candid, and welcoming than social media exchanges, where it’s all too easy to take potshots or chew on lingering recriminations and real and perceived outrages from the primary. It’s a lot harder to hate up close. Hosting and attending postprimary events can be incredibly important to uniting our Democratic family and moving forward en masse.
The obvious opportunity for your next house party is the convention in Milwaukee in mid-July. Back as recently as 1968, conventions were consumed with backroom, brass-knuckle wheeling and dealing to select the candidate. There was lots of drama about what would happen and how. And who would do what to whom.
These days conventions are as close to a free throw as you get in politics. Not much breaking news. Really hard to screw up. Clint Eastwood and the empty chair at Romney’s convention in 2012 being a notable exception to that rule.
But this is also the great thing about watching one of these modern conventions with a bunch of people. The terrific parts carry their own water—this year, the Obamas’ speeches will be must-see TV, as will those from the nominee’s spouse, VP pick, and of course the star of the show, our next president.
And there can always be surprises. Remember, it was at John Kerry’s coronation in Boston in 2004 that most of the country caught its first glimpse of the powerful oratory of one Barack Obama, and this year one or more of our rebuilding farm team could likewise startle the nation from the podium in Milwaukee. And all the less compelling speakers and the boilerplate stuff? They give your guests a good opportunity to imbibe, nosh, and exchange wisecracks and get closer as a team.
With such a crowd, watching the convention should not be an angst ridden, looking-between-your-fingers-at-the-big screen-TV experience. It should be inspirational, motivational, and clarifying, and make you proud of our party and our nominee. Now, in the unlikely event the primary contest continues all the way to this convention, with the result up in the air, well, that will be a different TV show altogether, and a different house party, and reconciliation and unification will be harder, more urgent, and with far less time to pull off.
And hosting a crowd to watch Trump’s shitshow of a convention? It certainly won’t be inspiring, but it will be searingly motivational and clarifying. The America they all talk about in Charlotte will be foreign to you and me. If it doesn’t fire you up to do everything within your power to wipe Trump off the face of the political earth, I’m not sure anything can. It’s a good moment to make sure everyone in attendance is signed up to volunteer and financially contribute if they can. Pass around the laptop and ask those that aren’t to get with the program.
Next on the house party calendars around the country could be the debates. Your candidate’s strong performance when you’re watching with a crowd can provide a real shot in the arm for everyone. It’s not much different from the joy of watching your favorite sports team win an important game surrounded by your friends and family.
And when it’s not going so well in the debate hall, it can induce a lot of concern, panic, yelling at the screen, and even fatalistic reaction. It’s a good reason why you should not watch alone or even with just your nuclear family. There is strength in numbers and, if necessary, comfort as well. It definitely was in the first reelection debate with Mitt Romney in 2012. This was the evening when President Obama seemed marooned somewhere between boredom with the whole thing—detached and distracted—and just plain irritated. We who had prepped him for the debate had clearly done a piss-poor job as well.
The pundits’ reviews were universally bad. Many suggested we had thrown out the window not just our modest but steady lead over Romney but the entire election. Voters’ reviews were no more kind.
Many of you watched those debates with your fellow Obama supporters and volunteers. I spent that night—all night, if I recall—with my colleagues in a crowded conference room in our hotel in the suburbs of Denver, trying to diagnose what had gone wrong, how to fix it, and most pressingly important, how to get off the mat only eight hours later. Basically, how to say a bunch of the stuff we should have said in the debate, without it seeming not a total mea culpa. Though for the most part it was.
The president had events in Colorado and Wisconsin the next day before heading back to the White House, and we actually had a decent and pretty feisty day after: Obama, with gusto and relish, prosecuted Romney for lying through his teeth about his record and plans. Still, the coverage of these pretty good events was understandably still being viewed through the prism of the debate: “Where was this Obama last night? That Obama was petulant, professorial, and missing opportunities.”
What are the five stages of grief in presidential politics? Shock, defiance, regret, gallows humor, and finally optimism that we would get our mojo back. That last one was a bit forced and hopeful at three a.m., but it turned out to be true. In the following days, it was incredibly helpful to me and my colleagues to process the debacle with one another. I can’t imagine you, the committed Obama supporter, turning on your TV and watching that debate alone, or even with spouse or kids. You’re thinking, “This seems really bad—but maybe it’s not as bad I think.” Then the commentary starts pouring in, and it universally judges the performance as even worse than you thought. Was Andrew Sullivan right? Had Obama thrown away the presidency in those ninety fateful minutes? Just about everyone agreed that he might have. And in the middle of all this negativity you’re alone or close to it, maybe texting a friend or two for comfort? Sounds miserable. Much better to be with a group. You could vent. “Why was Obama so bad? “I’ve never seen him like that!” “Why did he keep looking down and looking annoyed when Romney was talking?” “Plouffe and Axelrod don’t know what the hell they are doing.”
All warranted. Then you could turn to your friends and guests, discuss the ramifications, calmly and rationally, and hopefully work through things with the others. “Well, he had a huge lead after Romney’s 47 percent gaffe. He can afford to lose a point or two.” “There was no way he was going to win as big as the polls were saying. Tonight probably just accelerates Romney’s comeback, which was going to happen anyway.” “As long as he shows up in the next two like we know he can, it’ll be OK.” “Yeah, this is the first time he hasn’t delivered at a big moment. He’ll get the next two.” “Totally. There is no way he can be that bad two more times.”
Whatever it takes. Then the discussion most likely moves to what’s next. “Well, the race is going to tighten up, so we all better do more volunteering than we were planning on.” “I doubt he’ll bomb again in the next debate, but we better get out there and do all we can to lock in support now.” “We better mix things up for the next one—I’ll host.” Superstition around debates is always appreciated. After we did indeed recover in the second debate, some of us took it to an extreme for the third and final debate, insisting on eating the same food that day and wearing the same clothes as we did for the second. Please feel free to employ your own superstitious behaviors as needed!
Wouldn’t that be much better to soften the blow than fretting alone? Working through everything with a group, maybe you would not have slept much better, perhaps a little, but you’d certainly have woken up with a bit more perspective and resolve.
Best of all for all your volunteers in the country? Be good in the debates! That’s a lot more fun and gratifying for the candidate, the campaign team, and all the volunteers watching around the country. In his six general election debates, Obama went 5–1. So despite our one wretched bomb, we provided some highlights and momentum in the other five. Those are great memories. It’s also just simply nice, after all the hard work you are putting in, to sit back for ninety minutes and watch the main event together with your fellow travelers and spend some time processing and socializing before and after. In any election, it’s important to be reminded together of the stakes and the differences between the candidates, to reaffirm why winning is so important, and to talk afterward about what else each of us can do to get our candidate across the finish line.
In 2020, we will be reminded just about every hour by our president’s offensive and dumb tweets. The three debates are opportunities to see the Orange Menace and our candidate side by side, a perfect comparison. They’ll be the perfect reminder of how close we are to electing a sane, good, smart, and well-meaning president (not to mention all the issue and policy differences). For the supporters gathered around your little campfire, could it be more motivating, reassuring, and powerful?
Homely it may be, but once you put your creativity to hosting, the opportunities are endless. Live in a rural community that’s been gutted by Trump’s crazy tariff wars? Invite a few farmers or small business owners to go to the town square or local diner to talk about how Trump has screwed up their livelihood with taxes, or embargoes, or labor practices. Invite the local paper, local radio station, or the neighborhood blogger to cover the festivities. If they don’t make it, include them on the list of recipients receiving your own video. Or livestream it yourself on YouTube. Don’t wait for the nominee’s campaign people to organize an event like this—they may never get to it. Take it into your own hands.
And don’t just gather your friends and neighbors; think about all those out of towners who’ve come to help out in your community. Those of you who live in a battleground state will have field organizers from the nominee’s campaign camping out (sometimes literally) in your community or close to it. Outside a battleground state, you might have campaign staff temporarily living nearby helping raise money or recruit volunteers. It would be great if you could invite these folks over for a late dinner, hang out a bit, maybe watch a sporting event or show together—and they’ll also have to listen to your ideas for the campaign and tips about the local scene. If they’re really good at their job, they’ll be as hungry to hear them as they are for the home-cooked meal
I’m sure I am biased, or at least affected, by the many years I spent as a campaign staffer in Delaware, Iowa, Wisconsin, Massachusetts, New Jersey, and Illinois (and traveling to every state but North Dakota and Alaska), where I learned that hosting one-on-one like this will make a huge difference in a staffer’s morale. Particularly in the beginning of my career, those of us in the Democratic trenches didn’t have money to eat out anywhere decent or any time to cook, much less go to the grocery store. Food was on the fly, a gas station burrito here, a 7-Eleven hot dog there, a doughnut and a Slim Jim getting us by.
We didn’t know many people in the communities we moved to. Our apartments probably didn’t have TV, and we certainly didn’t have laptops, and there was no Netflix to stream for a few minutes before falling asleep on a lumpy mattress and doing it all over again the next day. Maybe a beat-up paperback of Fear and Loathing on The Campaign Trail ’72 to keep you company. Wages have improved a bit over the last generation, but the life is still pretty spartan. Field organizers aren’t doing it for the money, but still it’s hard and lonely, and you can get really hungry.
Extending an invite to your local campaign staffer to break bread with your family, play with your kids, or watch something together may not seem like much, but to a broke, tired, unhealthy campaign staffer, your split-level ranch will seem like a luxury spa. Of course, they’ll feel and probably say they don’t have time. Cajole them until they assent to your generous invite.
Morale is important. Just make sure that you plan ahead for seconds and thirds at the table and excuse the pace at which your guests eat. Your meal will probably be the best and most food they’ve had in months. Make this banquet a weekly occurrence, and you may just be responsible for that staffer’s performance at an even higher level. You may make a lifelong friend. When I went to Iowa in frigid early January to celebrate and mark the ten-year anniversary of Obama’s caucus victory with much of the original Iowa campaign team, it warmed me up to hear many of the former organizers talking about the local precinct leaders and volunteers they still stayed in close touch with, even though for some of them this event was the first time they had set foot back in the state in ten years. When you go through a crucible together, the ties that bind are unique and long lasting.