The New York Times In America January 7, 2004
OP-ED CONTRIBUTOR
How to Be an Iowan for a Day
By DAN SAVAGE
S EATTLE--It is a grand and glorious thing to be a footnote to a
presidential election.
I was in Iowa in January 2000 to write about the Republican caucuses
when I came down with the flu. Gary Bauer, a Republican candidate, had
been running around the state comparing gay marriage to terrorism.
Annoyed, I decided that if Mr. Bauer was going to call me a terrorist,
well, I would act like one a biological terrorist. (I know, I know,
but this was pre-9/11, when terrorism was still a cheap bit of
hyperbole for the likes of Mr. Bauer and me.) So I hung out at Bauer
headquarters in Des Moines, where I worked the phones, masqueraded as
a volunteer, and tried to give Gary Bauer the flu. To that end, I may
or may not have licked a few doorknobs at Bauer HQ.
I wrote up all of this up for Salon, and for my trouble what can I
say? I was young and foolish I was slapped around in the national
press, slammed on the Sunday political chat shows and charged with a
felony. When people heard that the gay guy who licked the doorknobs in
Gary Bauer's office had been charged with a crime, most assumed it was
for licking those doorknobs. This was not the case. Licking doorknobs
is not a crime in Iowa. No, Iowa tried to send me to prison for six
years because I registered to vote while I was in Iowa. I did this
even though I mean, come on I had no intention of ever living there.
As a citizen and, um, a respectable journalist, I was appalled when I
learned that you didn't need a valid voter registration card or proof
of residency any identification at all to take part in Iowa's
caucuses. All you had to do was show up at a caucus site and fill out
a voter registration card. While Iowa's caucuses don't determine the
Democratic or Republican nominee, they play a big role in shaping the
presidential race. With huge numbers of volunteers and true believers
flooding into the state, the potential for mischief seemed huge.
So I went to a caucus site, gave the address of my hotel in Des Moines
as my "residence" when I registered (no one asked how long I intended
to reside in Iowa), and took part in the caucus. As it turned out, I
didn't even need to register when it came time to indicate whom we
supported for president, slips of scrap paper were passed out to
everyone in the room. There was nothing to stop someone who hadn't
signed in, or even registered to vote, from grabbing a piece of paper
and jotting down a name. I told this story in my articles. I thought I
was being a good citizen, pointing out the flaws in the system.
Instead, I was charged with a felony. (I eventually pleaded guilty to
a misdemeanor and paid a small fine.)
I bring this up now because the ease with which Iowa's caucuses can be
abused seems especially problematic this year. Every campaign since
the dawn of our democracy has attracted people willing to bend the
rules or game the system to get their candidate elected. According to
The Des Moines Register, only 61,000 Democrats and 86,000 Republicans
participated in the Iowa caucuses in 2000. Throw in a bunch of young,
energized, devoted volunteers like the hordes of Howard Dean
supporters I've seen leaving Seattle for Iowa in their hybrid cars
over the last couple of weeks and, well, you get the picture. In a
nine-way contest, even a few hundred out-of-state volunteers willing
to show up at caucus sites and impersonate Iowans could distort the
outcome on behalf of their candidate.
Last week, I called the Polk County Election Office in Des Moines and
was told that you still don't need to produce any identification to
fill out a voter registration card; according to the Democratic Party
of Iowa, you can register at the caucus sites without any proof of
residency. That means Deaniacs, Liebermaniacs, Edwardians, Kerryactics
and Gepharatchiks from outside Iowa need only follow a few simple
steps if they want to participate in the Iowa caucuses: don't bring
identification, don't put your real name on the voter registration
form you'll be asked to fill out and don't write about your exploits
on your blogs. Alas, this means you won't get caught, and that you
won't be a footnote in a presidential election (a grand and glorious
thing), but you won't be looking at six years in prison either six
years in prison in Iowa, let's not forget.
And some advice for the press: While you're in Iowa, maybe one or two
reporters could ask Iowa's elections officials about why it's so easy
to take part in the caucuses; maybe some enterprising news
organization could scrutinize the voter-registration cards filled out
this year. If Iowa wants to keep its disproportionately influential
presidential caucus if Iowa wants to be the center of attention every
four years shouldn't the state make it a little harder to cheat?
Dan Savage, editor of The Stranger, a weekly newspaper, is author of
"Skipping Towards Gomorrah."
Copyright 2004 The New York Times Company