On Being a Closet Republican

I am a Republican.

There. I said it. And it was hard. You wanna know why? There's a lot of reasons.

First: I am, by profession and by natural inclination, an artist. Try being an artist and a conservative at the same time. It isn't that there aren't any other Republicans in the creative arts, it's just that they are so out-numbered and out-diatribed by their uber-left-wing brethren that if they so much as blink Republican they'll get verbally eviscerated. It isn't just that the creative arts industry is more-or-less lockstep liberal; it is the unspoken, ironclad assumption that everyone in the industry shares exactly the same liberal philosophies and utter hatred of Republicans and conservatism in general. No artist ever asks another artist "So whaddaya think of George Bush?" It is a matter of course that any other artist agrees that Mr. Bush is a homophobic, war-mongering, brain-dead hater of the poor who should be impeached, flogged, spat on, and either hung or made to go live in a spider hole.

On election day a few years back, I was working away in the animators pen when one of the owners of the studio came in and asked us all point blank who we'd voted for. I avoided answering, pretending to be too absorbed in my work to respond. She rounded on me, noting my silence, and said "Well I hope you at least voted democrat." That was the year of the whole Gore/Bush debacle, where for weeks no one really knew who'd won. There was an actual pall of terror over the entire office. One of my co-workers told me that if Bush actually won, rapists would not be punished and the environment would be "destroyed". I smiled, knowing she was being amusingly hyperbolic.

She wasn't. She stared at me as if she was marking the enemy, as if she dearly wished there was a Thought Police she could report me to.

I am an adjunct professor at a local college, in the art department. Walking through the offices, I am inundated with the most anti-Bush, anti-Republican, hate-filled posters and signs I've ever seen. Imagine trying to be comfortable with people who have a sign on their wall declaring (not in so many words, but in essence) that they'd despise you if they knew you were a Republican?

Second: I am a Christian. That may seem like a surprising reason for it to be hard to admit being a Republican, considering the well known stereotype that all Christians are Republicans (as well as homophobic, war-mongering, brain-dead haters of the poor). It would come as a great surprise to many, of course, to learn that there are in fact (gasp!) many Democrats and even liberals in the church. Political affiliation does not necessarily dictate religious beliefs (or lack thereof). I do believe that there are probably more conservatives than liberals in the church walls, but I can testify for a fact that some of my best and most respected Christian friends are Dems (and they aren't even in the creative industry!)

Discovering this, wise churches have begun distancing themselves from assumptions of political homogeny, making every attempt to welcome and embrace those of any political bent. It has almost become cool for a church to boast a rainbow of idealogical/political representatives. Fine. But the result is that I, at least, have found it difficult to admit being the typical Christian conservative for fear of being labeled an intolerant right-winger. If politics is even mentioned in a Christian setting, it is pretty much only in terms of "there is no right and wrong view and we love everybody and if you are a Democrat then good for you because we aren't even remotely like those twits in the Moral Majority." In the modern church environment, it has actually become rather taboo for anyone to admit to being a Republican. Modern Christians feel vaguely embarrassed by it, the way modern Italians might feel embarrassed by that Uncle who admits he is in the Mob.

Third: Watch TV a little. For anyone who watches any TV, or listens to the kind of music I happen to like (modern rock), or absorbs any form of popular culture at all, it is instantly apparent that Republicans are more or less the source of all evil, dorkiness and self-rightousness in the world. I want to be cool. I can't help it. And it is apparently impossible to be cool and a Republican at the same time. Period.

But I am ready to admit it. I am a Republican. Not just a conservative (that's quite a bit easier to say), but a true Republican. I resign myself to being uncool. To being a pariah amongst my co-workers. To being a bit of an anachronism among my Christian friends.

This is not to say I agree with everything Republicans say or do. Far, far from it. Today's Republicans, for the most part, represent true conservatism about as much as a lightning bug represents lightning.

I can explain why I am a Republican by explaining, in a ridiculously brief analogy, what I believe is the primary, elemental difference between Democratic and Republican idealogy. At it's core, it has nothing to do with abortion, or gay rights, or school vouchers. It has everything to do with perspectives on money and wealth.

Imagine a mountain with a plataeu on the top. The mountain represents financial success.

Republicans believe the mountain is scalable. It is steep, difficult, and you have to choose the route up carefully. Not everyone makes it; some get stuck under an overhang or lost in a crevasse, but scaling it, making it to the plateau of financial independence on top, is possible. Anyone can do it. It is merely a matter of planning, perseverence, education and yes, a little luck. But anyone, anyone at all, regardless of your background, your skin color, your upbringing, your neighborhood, your handicaps or even your general intellect, can make it to the top.

Democrats believe the mountain is unscalable. You are simply born somewhere on that mountain, and wherever you are born, you stay. Sure, plenty of people struggle to get a little further up the mountain, and a few lucky ones make some progress, but that is extremely rare and not to be depended on. Position on the mountain is a matter of pure luck and happenstance, with those on the top being the fortunate bastards and those on the bottom the unfortunate victims.

Further: Republicans believe that those that reach the top of the plateau are inclined to help those who are still struggling to climb. Republicans believe it is the responsibility and the desire of those on the top of the mountain to throw down ropes to pull more people to the top. Even more, they believe it is the natural result of success that more people make it to the top, both by helping and encouraging those that are struggling to climb.

Democrats believe those that reach the top are disinclined to help anyone else get there. Democrats believe, in fact, that those on the top grind their heels on the fingers of those still climbing, and kick off those that are getting close to the top, so as to preserve their exclusivity. To be sure, Democrats believe that those on the top should be pulled down from the top, so as to equalize society and lessen the disparity between the the lucky bastards on the top and the unfortunate victims at the bottom. After all, if it is impossible for those near the bottom to climb to the top, the only way to alleviate their awareness of being at the bottom is to pull everyone else as close to the bottom as possible. What Republicans think of as encouragement to climb, Democrats hear as taunting. What Democrats call equalizing society Republicans hear as making sure everyone is poor.

Considering that analogy, I am my own example of why I am a Republican. I believe the mountain is scalable. And while I myself have not reached the top, I have thrown ropes out behind me and I am trying, clumsily but steadfastly, to help some of my friends and family climb up along with me. I've done well. I do what I love, and I make pretty good money at it. I see the potential for me to do even better, not because I primarily want to be wealthy, but because people just tend to pay those that do what I do really well. I like the view from here, and I really, really want others to get here, too. And even higher. Whenever and wherever I can, I throw down ropes to try to pull somebody else a little further up the mountain. I can't haul them up by main force, but if they want to make the effort to climb, I'll show them the way I came and try to give them a helpful yank. And if I ever reach the top, you can bet that there will be a whole gaggle of my friends and family and even just some hangers-on who'll get there right along with me.

And if we do get there, we'll turn around and try to help some more people up, too. Not exactly because it's the moral thing to do, but because the view from the top just feels like it'll be better if it's shared. I am certain that not everyone agrees with me. Perhaps there are some people who are driven to make the climb to the top only to step on the fingers of everybody else. But I really don't think they are the majority. And I'll tell you one more thing:

If I find people like that up there when I get there, I might reconsider kicking people off the top.