In Defense of Not Caring About These Conventions

They're largely performative nonsense, and they don't change minds.

A friend familiar with my political commentary was surprised to learn the other day that I wasn’t watching the Democratic National Convention, nor did I watch any of the Republican National Convention. He probably assumed that because I write about politics, I felt a professional obligation to tune in, rather than rely on a few highlight videos and write-ups to clue myself in on convention happenings.

Fortunately, what I do on this website isn’t exactly my profession. It’s more of an interest, for which I thankfully have the option of not subjecting myself to the political equivalent of water-boarding. Listening to our two major political parties gaslighting the country and producing lowbrow, partisan entertainment for those foolish enough to invest emotionally in either party’s establishment, figureheads, and pseudo-celebrities is about as appealing to me as a Jesse Watters deep-dive on gender reincarnation.

I understand that sounds cynical, but I honestly don’t care. How anyone can form any degree of excitement over the dumpster fire that is our two national parties is beyond me. Other than some non-politicians who’ve made true sacrifices for our country, and individuals who’ve suffered an injustice worthy of a large media platform from which to tell their story, I can’t muster any interest in lending my ear to convention speakers.

I wasn’t always like this. I remember enjoying the 2004 Republican National Convention. I got a kick out of Democratic Senator Zell Miller tearing into his party for being weak on national security and foreign policy (and subsequently challenging MSNBC’s Chris Matthews to a duel). I liked then California Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger delivering one bad self-deprecating joke after another, before sharing his inspirational immigration story, and calling Democrats “economic girlie men.” I enjoyed President George W. Bush’s speech that year, which celebrated America. In fact, I liked it so much that I ended up ordering the convention on DVD (which I would never do again, because it permanently put me on every Republican mailing list known to man).

But it was a very different time… for me, the GOP, and the country. I was relatively new to politics in a post-9/11 world, having freshly experienced the last era of true patriotic unity our nation has seen. The Republican Party had lots of serious people in positions of leadership, guided by identifiable principles, policies, and a wealth of experience — not a crippling desire for media attention, political idolatry, personal loyalty tests, and culture-war demagoguery. The convention felt like an off-ramp of sorts — an entertaining and, at times, inspirational break from a political era largely defined by the War on Terror.

Those days are gone. Today, entertainment itself (falling under various apocolyptic and distopian sub-genres) is how our political culture is defined. The conventions are just reminders of how unserious everything has become.

I think my current perspective actually puts me in close alignment with most voters. I may be a weirdo in the sense that I still have a passion for political commentary and analysis (along with issues, policies, and governance) that probably far exceeds that of the average American, but a healthy disengagement from rank partisanship helps me understand that nothing that comes out of today’s conventions is going to persuade persuadable voters to change their mind on much of anything… in part because few such people bother to tune in.

Debates, campaign themes, messaging, vibes, personality, the economy, and unexpected events all matter. Conventions? Not so much.

So why subject myself to such ridiculousness?

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