What if — ? Naaah.
I know: Totally impossible. Completely unrealistic.
But I can dream, can’t I? I mean, if the president can dream of sending us back to the moon and then on to Mars for about a buck and a half and some spare parts, why can’t I come up with a grand and glorious and highly unachievable vision all my own?
So here it is: What if we let Iowa be Iowa?
I’m talking politically, you understand. All that other stuff — corn, and hogs, and … corn — people can say whatever they want about all of that; if Iowa wants to be the Sultan of Topsoil or the Prince of Pork Chops, that’s fine with me.
I’m talking politically. And I’m talking specifically, of course, about the famous Iowa caucuses. What if we gave the Iowa caucuses, those great eliminators, those great winnowers of ambition, all the significance and deference they deserve — but not a dot more?
What if, in other words, we put Iowa in its place?
A useful place, no question. Just not a crucial place. Not a make-or-break place.
My vision comes to me just before the caucusers actually start gathering, with the latest tracking polls showing the race getting tighter all the time. And it’s not just a tight two-man race anymore — Dean and Gephardt. Suddenly it’s a tight three- (Kerry) or even a tight four- (Edwards) man race. How thrilling! How compelling!
How about keeping things in perspective?
Understand, I don’t have a dog in this fight. As far as I’m concerned, I’d be perfectly happy to have Monday night finish up in a perfect four-way tie. I’d be perfectly happy, but I’m not holding my breath. Once they’ve finally figured out who’s standing in which corner of the gym, and which candidates’ supporters have "viable" percentages of the crowd and which need to relocate themselves to some other corner of the gym, once they’ve called in their totals to caucus central, and once caucus central makes its preliminary delegate allotments by stuffing all the data into a formula only slightly less complicated than the NFL’s quarterback ratings —
Somebody is going to win.
Somebody — maybe somebody else, maybe a couple of somebodies — is going to win the battle of expectations.
Somebody — maybe a couple of somebodies — won’t. Won’t win anything but a one-way ticket home. Maybe it’s somebody who’d said he had to do no worse than third in Iowa and finishes fourth instead. Maybe it’s somebody who’d said he had to finish first in Iowa and finishes second.
They could be toast. If they can’t get the networks to declare them the winner of something (Mr. Congeniality?), there’s every chance their calls will stop being returned, their money will start drying up. They could be road kill before they ever get to New Hampshire and the rest. And all because of a relative handful of votes one way or the other, in just one of 50 states.
Ridiculous.
But what if … ?
What if, on caucus night, the networks and the pundits held back just a little? What if, instead of anointing and consigning, instead of discovering Big Mo and No Mo, they simply reminded everyone that Iowa is the first step in a long parade, that the tens of thousands who turned out in Iowa represent only a small fraction of the millions of people all across the country who’ll eventually be voting for their own favorite candidates, and that even the delegates won or lost in Iowa are likewise a pretty tiny number in the general scheme of things?
Or to put it another way: So-and-So may be slightly ahead of So-and-So so far, but so what?
I know, I know: The only thing that makes the Iowa caucuses exciting is the part that looks like "Survivor." If nobody’s going to get voted off the island, what’s the point?
I know all that. But I can still dream, can’t I?
Rick Horowitz is a nationally syndicated columnist. Contact him by writing to
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