Straw Poll in Corn Country

“Mitt Romney Wins Iowa Straw Poll”—versions of this statement graced the pages of newspapers around the world. The sentence seems harmless enough. But, as with anything involving American politics, a closer look is not so innocuous. A few questions immediately come to mind: Where is Iowa? Why would people vote for Mitt Romney? And what the fuck is a straw poll?

The first two questions are the easiest to answer. Iowa is a medium-sized agricultural state in the middle of the country, specializing in corn and Protestantism. It has the fortune/burden of being home to the nation’s first presidential caucuses, and it also happens to be where I’m from. It should also be noted, for my super-educated classmates, that Iowa is neither Idaho nor Ohio.

As for Mitt Romney, you probably know he is a former Massachusetts governor, and a Republican candidate for president who has invited skepticism from conservative voters who are worried that he is Mormon but are, apparently, not concerned that he is kind of crazy. Now you also know that neither of these potential setbacks kept him from winning the Iowa Straw Poll.

When it comes to the Straw Poll itself, things get more complicated. Let me explain it to you as someone who has been observing the thing firsthand ever since Ross Perot was tearing shit up back in ’92: Every four years, hordes of people descend upon our fair state in order to show Iowans that they care about us. At any moment, any place can become a political battleground. City parks, Dairy Queen parking lots, the hatchback of my mom’s Volvo—no place is safe from “stump speeches” and “town halls” led by millionaire politicians with rolled-up shirtsleeves and sympathetic grins.

Amid this masquerade, someone is keeping score. Sometime in August, the Republican Party decides the most logical way to quantify the “progress on the ground” is through the Iowa Straw Poll. So, after being bombarded for a couple months by white smiles and whiter candidates, the faithful are called to Ames, Iowa, for polling.

Once in Ames, you are registered and thumbprinted for the event. Then you are treated to pulled-pork sandwiches and a killer rock show by Styx or REO Speedwagon or whichever second-rate ’80s power-ballad factory has enough members out of rehab or prison to put together a four-song set.

Your spirits raised, you listen to speeches by Republican candidates and watch Mitt Romney’s hair for signs of life until you are finally allowed to participate in the famed Iowa Straw Poll, in which, contrary to what the name would suggest, you actually vote using an electronic ballot machine.

Apparently, between horrible power-ballads and the even-worse speeches, the good Republicans of Iowa put aside their pork sandwiches for a moment and carefully weigh the issues facing our troubled nation. Before the bass player of Styx has time to completely black out backstage, the Straw Poll is over, someone is picked as the best person to run the country, and I lose my faith in representative democracy.

In reality, there are no straws, no one really likes mass-produced pulled-pork sandwiches, and I pray to a merciful God that no one enjoys watching former Arkansas Governor Mike Huckabee sexually assault a bass. After the poll, most people in Iowa still think politicians are phony, most politicians don’t care what most people in Iowa think, and most people in New York still think people from Ohio are fat.

Our fake straw poll is just one example of the greed, stupidity, and sheer refusal to think that define a “political contest” in our country. Politicians exploit the image of Iowans as pork-fed simpletons, while the voters of Iowa (and probably everywhere else) embrace this brutal simplification full-on. “Goddamit, I must love this!” Iowans decide. “I must love straw polls and sandwiches—please, give me a sticker to wear on my back!” And somehow a serious political decision is made.

It is a vicious circle. Confining politics to the simplistic realm of straw polls makes life easier for voters and politicians alike. When you simplify major political decisions to the level of sandwich preference, people on all sides are spared the burden of thinking. It is a mentality that I’ve seen played out dozens of times in my battleground of a state, a series of events coming together to perpetuate simplistic cultural stereotypes at best and horrific political leadership at worst.

The continual dumbing-down of the political process (the YouTube debates come to mind) in the face of an upcoming election should raise important questions in Iowa and the rest of the country, most importantly: “Holy shit, did a sandwich and a half-ass rendition of ‘Mr. Roboto’ just make me vote for Mitt Romney?” On the other hand, some answers are too hard to bear.