Moving on from MoveOn

Three years ago, I wanted to help make a difference in the presidential campaign, so I marched on down to the Minneapolis office of MoveOn and volunteered my services. Despite the fact that their very name had become a code word for "foaming at the mouth lefty" and a rallying cry for the right, I thought it might be the right vehicle for my desire to effect change in our country.

The work I did was pretty tame -- no firebombing Republican headquarters, no smear-filled leaflet drops, no picketing the Governor's mansion. I was given a neighborhood to canvas and a list of undecided voters, and I went door-to-door reminding them of the date of the election and offering pro-Kerry literature if they were interested.

On Election Day, we set up a table and banner outside (200 yards from the door) of the local polling place, just to maintain a presence and supposedly check off the names from our list as they came to vote (like I'm supposed to remember somebody I might have met for 45 seconds on their front porch). That lasted about two hours. Apparently, right-wing radio started spreading rumors that MoveOn reps were hassling voters at the polls, and we were ousted from the premises. I tried to point out that we were 200 feet from the door, but the election official I talked to said their interpretation of the law was that we had to be 200 feet from the property line, and since the polling place was in the middle of a big park, we'd have to set up shop three blocks away from the venue.

No matter. I never saw the logic in hovering around the polls anyway. But I was pissed at how easy it was for the right-wing propagandists to get the crowd turned against us. It was clear to me that MoveOn had an image problem, because although we weren't doing anything intrusive or illegal, the general public was so quick to believe anything negative they heard about us, the attacks didn't have to be factual or even logical to stick.

In the post-election navel-gazing phase of the campaign, MoveOn asked for feedback from its members as to how we could do a better job the next time around. I talked with MoveOn employees at the Minneapolis office and sent a lengthy e-mail to the national office with my concerns about MoveOn's image, and even proposed a "We are MoveOn" ad campaign featuring people from all walks of life -- students and senior citizens, business owners and school teachers, doctors and housewives -- because that's who I saw when I stopped by the local office. The public image of MoveOn was that of a group of hippie stoners reeking of patchouli, wearing Birkenstocks and hugging trees. And that's just not what I saw when I visited their offices.

I never did hear back from anybody at MoveOn, and I've watched with a mixture of chagrin and self-congratulatory satisfaction over the past three years as MoveOn's negative image has become cemented in the national consciousness. And now, after their "Petraeus or Betray Us" ad, I've finally cut all ties with MoveOn.

It's not that I disagree with their opinions (most of them, at least). I just can't support an organization that is so politically tone-deaf they don't understand that they're feeding raw meat to the Republicans at every turn. To produce an ad that could easily be spun as an attack on the military was just the last straw for me -- this was actually a long time coming. I haven't given them any money in at least two years, usually delete their e-mails without reading them, and sadly shake my head whenever I hear even centrist political pundits refer to MoveOn the same way they'd refer to the Klan or the John Birch Society.

So today, I unsubscribed from their e-mail list, sent them one last angry missive when they asked why, and have moved on from MoveOn. I'm throwing all my financial support behind organizations like Iraq and Afghanistan Veterans of America and the USO. MoveOn can kiss my red, white and blue ass.

Linkage: Here's a great column by the Las Vegas Sun's own Jon Ralston that summarizes my thoughts much more succinctly and artfully. He's a great writer -- we're lucky to have him here.