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calling your representative is weird
Over the last few years, I've written a bunch of email to Mike Honda, Dianne Feinstein, and Barbara Boxer, my elected representatives in Congress, asking them to vote one way or another on some bill - you know, stop torture, avoid war, preserve basic human rights. It's okay. I write a paragraph or three, as eloquently as I can; it makes me feel like I've spoken my mind, and in time, someone on the elected official's staff scans it for keywords, possibly marks a tally somewhere, and sends me a form letter in his or her name, vaguely related to the topic I so carefully addressed.
(One exception: the time when Feinstein's office responded to a call for impeachment, verbosely founded on the administration's disregard for both statute and the Constitution, by arguing that the 9/11 Commission had no evidence that Bush was behind the attack on the World Trade Center. Which, of course, had nothing to do with my letter.)
Today I was moved for the first time to make an actual phone call. The House is about to consider another "FISA compromise". This one doesn't say that wiretapping Americans without a warrant is legal; instead, it says that all that matters, retroactively, is whether George W. Bush said it was legal. If he said it was okay, then the telecommunication companies that went along with it don't have to defend their actions in court. Some of you may recall from Saturday morning cartoons that it's the judiciary's job to interpret the law; not so much, I guess.
I've always heard that phone calls somehow "count" more than email, and I've felt vaguely guilty about doing the less effective thing, but, man, I hate making phone calls. It's not that this issue was more important to me than, say, endless war; it's just that it looks like they're trying to ram this bill through as fast as possible, with no debate or even time to read it, and I knew if I sent email, it wouldn't even be read until it was too late.
So I called Mike Honda's office. A young man answered the phone with something indistinct; I said I was calling to encourage Honda to continue to oppose retroactive immunity for the telecom companies in the new FISA bill; he said he'd be sure to pass that along. I think I said "Thanks."
So, okay. Took less time than composing email no one will read. Probably is about as effective in conveying a constituent's yes/no as anything else. But I feel so frustrated! I had things to SAY about WHY Honda should vote no. But I guess I was waiting to be drawn into a lengthy conversation, and that sure didn't happen.
So that's why I'm telling you about it. Anyway, it was weird. I hope I don't feel compelled to do that again.
(One exception: the time when Feinstein's office responded to a call for impeachment, verbosely founded on the administration's disregard for both statute and the Constitution, by arguing that the 9/11 Commission had no evidence that Bush was behind the attack on the World Trade Center. Which, of course, had nothing to do with my letter.)
Today I was moved for the first time to make an actual phone call. The House is about to consider another "FISA compromise". This one doesn't say that wiretapping Americans without a warrant is legal; instead, it says that all that matters, retroactively, is whether George W. Bush said it was legal. If he said it was okay, then the telecommunication companies that went along with it don't have to defend their actions in court. Some of you may recall from Saturday morning cartoons that it's the judiciary's job to interpret the law; not so much, I guess.
I've always heard that phone calls somehow "count" more than email, and I've felt vaguely guilty about doing the less effective thing, but, man, I hate making phone calls. It's not that this issue was more important to me than, say, endless war; it's just that it looks like they're trying to ram this bill through as fast as possible, with no debate or even time to read it, and I knew if I sent email, it wouldn't even be read until it was too late.
So I called Mike Honda's office. A young man answered the phone with something indistinct; I said I was calling to encourage Honda to continue to oppose retroactive immunity for the telecom companies in the new FISA bill; he said he'd be sure to pass that along. I think I said "Thanks."
So, okay. Took less time than composing email no one will read. Probably is about as effective in conveying a constituent's yes/no as anything else. But I feel so frustrated! I had things to SAY about WHY Honda should vote no. But I guess I was waiting to be drawn into a lengthy conversation, and that sure didn't happen.
So that's why I'm telling you about it. Anyway, it was weird. I hope I don't feel compelled to do that again.