The March 6, 2016 Democratic debate is over. That it was
held in Flint seems more amazing now than it did the Sunday I stood in a line
that snaked around the Whiting parking lot---students, Flint old timers (“I
walked to Flint Central fifty years ago!”), guys with union hall physiques and
no topcoat, proper ministerial types, politicos in snug-fitting silky suits.
I got a ticket through Flint Neighborhoods United---my name went
into a pool of people who posed questions for the candidates. None of my questions were used, but I got an
email with two attachments: one pdf for
parking and one explaining times and logistics and behavior (“no noisemakers!”
no “light-up attire!”).
You’ve heard the clips and spin on that 7th
debate. If you are a political junkie
like me you’ve now moved on to subsequent debates, town halls, and the
primaries. But what fascinated me at the
Flint debate was the “pre-game” show---the hour warm up with the locals before
broadcast that TV viewers don’t see.
Young volunteers checked my ID on a smart phone list and
handed me a green admission card that placed me up in the second balcony; those
with purple went to the first balcony.
The lucky stiffs with gold cards headed down to the main floor---the
first rows of the orchestra designated for the Michigan Democratic delegation
who mostly just mill around.
Here in the balconies excitement was palpable as the camera
boom would swing toward us and then a communal sigh as it sailed away to more
important panoramas below. I spied Mayor
Weaver working the main floor.
Up here, people chattered, leaned over the railing looking
for friends, peered out intently at the CNN set up on the stage. To my left sat an elderly gentleman,
shepherded to his seat by a young woman; he could not hear well but his face is a
beatific glow. To my right was an Indian
couple---she in hijab and madly clicking on her phone. The second balcony has some faithful
Democrats, behind me were several who work for Lansing legislative committees. Dayne and Carrie Walling are here, and Deb
Cherry too.
I could hear the muffled voice of Wolf Blitzer somewhere
beneath us. At 6:55, with some scattered vacant seats remaining in the
balconies and the Michigan delegation on main floor still swarming, a CNN warm
up man comes down stage at house left:
the pre-event routine begins.
Dressed in black and equipped with a multi-mic headset (one
mic for us in the audience and one for the stage crew), he calls for everyone,
especially the swarming, to take their seats. Then he coaches us on what to expect and what
not to do---it’s the live show drill.
At 7:03 the white shirted Flint children’s choir files in to
the box seat area and sings “America the Beautiful”---their sweet voices
unaffected by lead or politics.
Next comes a roll call of welcomes and thanks to the locals
(including an energetic welcome from UM-F Chancellor Sue Borrego). Debbie Wasserman Schultz, DNC chair, introduces
the phalanx of Michigan Dems and reminds the audience why we are
Democrats. But the pre-debate welcome crown
goes to Dr. Mona Hanna-Attisha from Hurley Medical Center. She strides out to a standing ovation. In her melon-bright shirt and with her dark
hair swinging, she speaks smilingly and without a single note---she is our
heroine. I think I can see Dr. Mona’s
dimples. The Flint audience adores her.
Mr. Multi-mic reappears: “Are we ready to have some fun
tonight?” (I’m not kidding; this is in my
notes). He gives us our cue—five, four,
three minutes to live and clap---and Anderson Cooper turns round to face the
audience and Don Lemon settles into his swivel seat on the opposite side of the stage.
Once Anderson Cooper introduces the Democratic candidates (Hillary’s
applause deepened by the party faithful) we stand for the brisk, bracing
rendition adult voices of Flint City Wide Choir’s national anthem. Their powerful
voices are directed by Darnell Ishmael, a conductor of heft and brio.
Cooper sketches the context:
CNN and Democratic Debate is here in Flint, land of successive
plagues---most recently, lead in the water.
Number three if you are counting back through the loss of auto jobs in
the 1990s and the great recession of 2008.
And the debate begins, shaped by questions from eight local
or at least regional folks. The first questions focus on repair of the lead
problem and the possibility of candidates using the issue for their
campaigns. Then one question each about
education, gun control, bringing jobs back, and racism (from Don Lemon). The final two questions concern fracking and
a two-part wild card typical of America today---is God relevant? Do you pray?
To whom and for whom?
Watching live makes me alert to candidates’ one liners and rhetorical
strategies. Out the outset Hillary strikes pay dirt with her “amen to that”
(Sanders’call for Governor Snyder to resign).
Her take away line, “It’s raining lead in Flint,” is so deft that people
(around me at least) don’t seem to realize this is the first time she’s called
for Snyder to go.
Bernie’s works the audience with his powers of concision and
irony (“I hate to break it to you . . . ). His line, “We will devote a lot of funds to
mental health. Maybe the Republicans
could use this” prompts hearty laughter and applause. Alas, his more icy jabs seemed less well
grasped, at least, up in my balcony. “While you were in Europe you may have noticed
health care.” “Why should people trust government? I suppose they should trust corporations,
maybe Wall Street. I will trust
government.”
Bernie’s been called “handsy.” And his hand gestures warrant
anthropological research. I’d wager they
come from Jewish life in Brooklyn sixty years ago, but as I say, the scholarship
on this awaits.
Hillary has her verbal ticks. You can count on her to open with “Well you know, or “Well, let me start.” She works what I call “the litany” ---the list of what she will do, or “I will do more”, or “I have a comprehensive plan.” Sometimes she pads the list with even improbable items: “I will commit to 5 years and lead in soil and in the houses.”
Really? Lead in our soil?
Makes water seem easy.
She promises thoroughness: I will “double, triple check all
work when [the water] is fixed.” I’m a
bit OCD myself, but even I grow weary.
Alas, instead of building audience enthusiasm, Hillary’s approach comes
across like a list of chores.
The depth of Hillary’s machine appears when she’s able to
include in the list a last minute initiative (brokered at Mott Community
College earlier Sunday afternoon): Flint Waterworks which will pay Flint people
to deliver water. Great applause. No surprise---Mayor Weaver had
broached the idea earlier. (See http://www.mlive.com/news/flint/index.ssf/2016/03/hillary_clinton_partners_with.html)
This 7th debate shows Hillary strong, empowered;
she now talks over or through moderator Cooper.
She interrupts Bernie who, justifiably irritated, says “Can I finish
please” and elicits some boos. But no one seems perturbed. Throughout the
debate applause seems keyed to the issue and boos signal the intensity of audience
attention to local pain---especially an issue like NAFTA.
I was impressed by how much the candidates teach about how bills
and legislation work, while at the same time using the tactic of skewering the
opponent for voting for or against a bill.
Bernie was the first to do this.
He reminded the audience that bills have bad and good provisions; if you
voted for this, then you voted for that. What was the most important provision in the
bill determined whether to vote for or against.
The 1990s provides contested legislative ground: Hillary
recites a litany of good economic stats; Bernie retorts that the decade
deregulated Wall Street and passed NAFTA---a lot of good, a lot of bad. The 1996 Welfare Reform Bill scapegoated the
poor, increased extreme poverty (Bernie); the bill’s best provisions were stripped
out by George W. Bush and Republicans (Hillary).
I found myself taking notes---what to look up about the
candidates’ positions, past and present.
The final two questions crystalized the rhetorical contrast between Hillary and Bernie. To the question about fracking posed by a UM-Dearborn student Sarah Bellaire, Hillary set out her list of conditions:
“You know, I don’t support it when
any locality or any state is against it, number one. I don’t support it when
the release of methane or contamination of water is present. I don’t support it
— number three — unless we can require that anybody who fracks has to tell us
exactly what chemicals they are using. So by the time we get through all of my conditions,
I do not think there will be many places in America where fracking will
continue to take place.”
But Bernie’s weapon of concision wins the audience:
“My answer — my answer is a lot
shorter. No, I do not support fracking.” A burst of applause. “We have gotta be
bold now. We gotta transform our energy system to energy efficiency and
sustainable energy. We've gotta do it yesterday.”
No wonder the students love him.
The announcement of the final question devoted to religion
elicited some audience groans (including mine).
Its two-part format---is God relevant, why or why not? (addressed to
Bernie) and to whom and for whom do you pray (addressed to Hillary) suggested
some assumptions. Did the questioner
(Denise Ghattas of Flint) assume that Christians pray and not Jews? Or, perhaps
Jews only deal with the big theological stuff?
The question opened a back door for Anderson Cooper to
interject a follow-up to Bernie---was he keeping his Judaism in the background?
On the relevance of God Bernie responded
“Well, I think -- well, the answer
is yes, and I think when we talk about God whether it is Christianity, or
Judaism, or Islam, or Buddhism, what we are talking about is what all religions
hold dear. And, that is to do unto others as you would like them to do unto
you.”
And from Hillary? Five paragraphs on her personal prayer
habits. Once again, a list. Well, I was
not surprised. The candidates’ responses
epitomized their favored rhetorical patterns.
Getting my coat at coat check, I chat with people whom I
don’t really know, but in Flint so many faces are familiar we all think we’ve
met somewhere. The garderobe system at
Whiting remains an old world experience of community.
A short, rumpled Columbo-type guy passes our line; it’s Mark Ruffalo,
smiling and waving at the people who’ve recognized him.
I’m high on politics and so I’ve decided to head over to The
Torch to get a beer and a burger. It’s
after 11, but the place is nearly full---friends are at the end of the bar
waiting for take-out.
The Torch alley sign light is inexplicably out, but this is
Flint.
* * *
For a transcript of the 2016 7th Democratic
debate, see the Washington Post at https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/the-fix/wp/2016/03/06/the-democrats-debate-in-flint-mich-annotated/
, Youtube at www.youtube.com/watch?v=gSd9HmZXf5I. Or just cut to the chase at Mother Jones: http://www.motherjones.com/politics/2016/03/here-are-highlights-democratic-debate-flint
Read more essays like this at East Village Magazine,
http://www.eastvillagemagazine.org/
