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But what if Town Meeting truly is the “last bastion?” Can there be any doubt that nationally, our political system has taken some hard shots to the head? Events suggest our wobbly democracy should be undergoing the concussion protocol.
A recent ranking of presidents by historians placed the current White House occupant — the self-described potential real American hero and “very stable genius” — dead last, rescuing the beleaguered James Buchanan from infamy. I can imagine a scenario in which James Buchanan Society President James Buchanan IV, speaking from the presidential birthplace in Cove Gap, Pa., says with gratitude and relief, “Our long family nightmare is over.”
James Buchanan the president earned historians’ scorn by misjudging the grave dangers to the union before the Civil War. In his inaugural address, for instance, he called the territorial issue of slavery “happily, a matter of but little practical importance.’’ He later opined that secession was wrong, but there wasn’t much a president could do about it. “History will vindicate my memory from every unjust aspersion,’’ he reportedly said on his deathbed in 1868, after the war. He missed on that one, too. But perhaps current events allow us to see Buchanan in a slightly softer light. “We could do worse’’ has the ring of truth.
But back to Town Meeting. If it is a “last bastion,’’ it might be because it is conducted on such a personal scale that the great issues of the day — road budgets, culvert placements — can be worked out face to face. It is so local that it seems it cannot be tampered with or hacked. Or can it?
Here at the West Lebanon Commission for Electoral Integrity, concern is being expressed about a potential external threat to our sacred institution. You might think that Russian interests have no stake in whether the Sharon town budget creeps up or Plainfield merges its fire departments, but let’s not hastily declare “no collusion, no collusion.”
And if you sense where I am going with this, you might object, “BUT WHAT ABOUT HILLARY?” And that, my fellow American, illustrates the sorry state of politics today, where everything is set to spring like a mousetrap.
Just for the sake of argument, let’s assume Russians are poised to mess with Town Meeting. Putin’s tricksters might hack directly into the recording clerk’s laptop and change a word here and there. A motion to save money for the purchase of a new grader might go into the record as setting aside funds to arm the road crew, throwing a sensitive town like Norwich into disarray.
You might say “Preposterous!” or even “Ridiculous!” I would have agreed before now, but so much that I used to think was preposterous or ridiculous is the daily order of business at the White House. Satire cannot keep up. Parody falls short. Humor is mop-up work.
On the local level, the protocol this year must be to trust no one. If sitting next to the all-American apple pie on the Town Meeting dessert table is kulebyaka — Russian fish pie — that goes double.
The new resident who stands in back keeping to himself, only saying vaguely he moved here from the “steppes of Texas,’’ might actually be named Boris. If he says during the debate that “We will bury this solid waste budget just as the people of Crimea freed themselves from their Ukrainian fascist overlords,’’ treachery may be afoot.
If another speaker shouts “What about George Soros?’’ or “Benghazi!’’ during the review of transfer station spending, he should be ruled out of order. If not, examine the moderator’s links to certain oligarchs, foreign or domestic.
Listen for certain words and phrases. If you hear a “nyet” among the “nays’’ during a voice vote, or references to “Mother Hartland’’ at Damon Hall, keep your town report and your copy of Thomas Paine’s The American Crisis close to your heart.
Where does this leave us? It is your sacred duty to attend Town Meeting. Keep your ears open and your eyes peeled. If someone calls you comrade, report him immediately to the first constable, or if need be, the second. If they are suspiciously blasé about Russian meddling, work your way down the list of town officials. Find your Mueller! In conflicted times like these, you never know from whence a hero will come. If the conspiracy runs deep, your savior could even be a lowly fence viewer or the holder of some other old-time post.
God bless America and God bless the weigher of coal!
Dan Mackie lives in West Lebanon. He can be reached at dan.mackie@yahoo.com.
