When 68 Equals 41

Fuzzy math at the Iowa caucus.

by Ben Hickernell

After driving 22 hours on a bus, knocking on hundreds of doors for Howard Dean and averaging four hours sleep for the past five nights, I'm watching the co-chair of the Mt. Vernon caucus in eastern Iowa rat-a-tap-tap on the calculator. Votes have been cast and crucial figures computed. He then scratches on a small notepad and exclaims, "Okay, so Dean has 66 votes and Edwards has 41. That means they both get two delegates."

What?

Dean took a lot of flack a few weeks back, pre-caucus, for having said on Canadian TV three years ago that the Iowa caucuses are "dominated by special interests" and "don't represent the centrist tendencies of the American people. They represent the extremes." Dean had no choice but to retract the statement going into Iowa. However, as I watched the process unfold at Mt. Vernon, I couldn't help but think he had a point.

The Mt. Vernon caucus was held in a middle school auditorium, where a record 166 attendees met to elect six delegates (based on the precinct's population); delegates are awarded based on the percentage of caucus-goers who "prefer" each candidate. The math is a little complex, but in a six-delegate caucus, each candidate needs 15 percent of the vote to secure a delegate. Remaining delegates are awarded based on the proportion of votes already cast.

After hearing supporters' stump speeches, the caucus-goers divided into "preference groups," leaving behind 10 people, the "undecideds." As soon as the others left, the undecideds began talking about Dean. Most said they had wanted to vote for him a week before, but continued reports of his "temper" were giving them doubts. "That's the media playing things up," one man said. Another wasn't sure if Dean had enough experience. A third answered that Dean had a lot more experience as governor than Bush had in 2000. Somebody mentioned Kerry's experience, but then lamented that he had caved on No Child Left Behind and the tax cuts.

When the co-chair came back with initial numbers, there were 68 for Dean, 41 for Edwards, 33 for Kerry and 21 for Kucinich. At this point, Kucinich was not "viable;" he needed 25 people to earn a delegate.

The caucus then entered the "realignment" phase: 30 minutes wherein one's neighbors encourage, beg and even (neighborly) bribe them to change groups. The heightened debate focused on Dean as the deciding factor. One Dean supporter said she felt that "for the first time in years I'm voting for someone rather than against someone else." Several caucus-goers nodded. One woman said that she thought Edwards was "nicer."

"It used to go all night," a man told me, "discussing and changing around again and again, but there's so much pressure from the media to get the results that now it almost never goes more than one round." The discussion halted as the co-chair told everyone to join their new preference groups. A woman and her friend threw their hands up. "Well, who should I go for?" she asked her friend, who shrugged. "Edwards," the woman said and got up. As she went out the door, she bit her lip. "No, Kerry."

A minute later the co-chairs brought out the calculator. The new numbers were similar except that a few Dean supporters had switched over to Kucinich to give him viability. "We had extra," explained a supporter. Had they not done so, the sixth delegate would have gone to Dean; meanwhile Kucinich, who had more in common ideologically with Dean but more to gain by making a deal with another underdog, had cut a deal with Edwards: Their supporters would support each other if either did not have viability.

After the calculator's final clicks, Dean had earned 2.3 delegates and Edwards, 1.5. With rounding, this gave them each two delegates, as well as one for Kerry and one for Kucinich. The co-chair immediately picked up his cell and phoned in the numbers. Folks began to go home -- only a core group of dedicated citizens would stay for the other town business.

About three million people live in Iowa, but usually only 60,000 participate in the Democratic caucus; less than 2 percent. This year, about 120,000 participated, still less than 4 percent. Attendance isn't easy: Unlike a primary vote, you attend caucus between 6:30 p.m. and 8 p.m. or not at all. And once there, far from the contemplative quiet of a ballot booth, you'll be persuaded and tugged, and in the end, 64 votes equal 41.

On MSNBC that night, I heard commentators saying Dean had gotten "18 percent of the vote." What Dean actually had was 18 percent of the delegates, and the choosing process did not reflect the actual numbers of voters' first choices. Yet, based on the Iowa results, Kerry jumped in New Hampshire Zogby polls from 17 percent pre-caucus to 31 percent post-caucus, giving a lot of weight to Monday night's caucuses.

It can be hard to stand up for what you think in a room full of strangers. Earlier that day, I had convinced a teenager working at Subway to caucus for the first time, after discussing how Bush had recently cut Pell grants for 84,000 college students. "So, will you consider caucusing for Howard Dean?" I asked. She inhaled. "Well, I'm probably just gonna go for whoever my Dad votes for."

Ben Hickernell is a filmmaker, writer and sometime political activist. If you would like to respond to this Slant or have one of your own (850 words), contact Howard Altman, City Paper editor in chief, 123 Chestnut St., third floor, Phila., PA 19106 or e-mail altman@citypaper.net.