Apparently I’m going to hell, but at least I’ll have company.
As I scrolled through news articles on a sunny Sunday afternoon, I found myself suddenly confronted with this new fate — issued to me, along with a subset of America’s young women, specifically from former Secretary of State Madeleine Albright. She asserted her famous phrase “There’s a special place in hell for women who don’t help each other” yet again, and this time in context of the presidential candidacy of Hillary Clinton and the tendency of younger women to support her opponent Bernie Sanders.
Forgetting, at least for now, the irony of one woman theoretically sending others to hell for lack of wholehearted support, this raises an interesting question. Am I, as a fellow woman, obligated to support Clinton simply due to this commonality? More generally, what role should a candidate’s background have when in competition for an elected or appointed office?
In the escalating race for the presidential bully pulpit, these issues taking the spotlight on the national stage have co-evolved with Stanford’s own presidential search. When Marc Tessier-Levigne was announced as the impending 11th president of Stanford University, my peers immediately took to social media to express disdain at one particular point. Although Tessier-Levigne has an unarguably impressive resume under his belt — the ultimate trifecta of experience in academia, industry and as a previous university president — the continuation of the pattern of white, male presidents cast a shadow over his appointment.
It’s the same consideration we must debate when we talk about affirmative action, the question of exactly how a trait such as gender, race or sexual orientation should be treated when we talk politics or when we talk candidates. In a world of increasing scrutiny toward systematic oppressions of groups of people, there is a very fine line between a recurrence of history based on merit and and an institutionalized bias. And there is certainly a finer line in its public interpretation, as this situation can and has been easily skewed to favor one argument over the other.
There is no simple, clear-cut way to judge how a candidate has been selected or, in Clinton’s presidential bid, how these traits will factor into voters’ decisions of the best choice for our country in politics. Even if we understand and recognize systematic biases in others, it’s a much harder job to become honest and introspective enough to not only recognize them in ourselves but also change our outlooks.
Let’s say that tomorrow, I realize all along that I have been unconsciously favoring one race over others. Even with this information, how am I to enact personal change? Do I now systematically not favor that race, trying to undo my previous wrongs? Even in future decisions, say, in the decision of which candidate to vote for, upon this realization, I will have arrived at an impasse of logical inconsistency and labels. If we extend this problem to an institution, or a country, this process becomes all the more convoluted.
I’ll give a more concrete example: Clinton versus Sanders. Sanders seems like a great choice — a candidate optimistic for change who has many years of experience in bipartisan negotiations and wants to level the playing field of the American economy, among other key points. Great. I’m all for those things, so let’s say I decide to vote Sanders. But what about Clinton? She takes a more rational, less-flamboyant approach to her policy stances, but at the same time, I’m forced to realize the pressures put on her simply by being a woman in politics. This comes in the form of unfair double standards; she must face the reality of needing to appear both level-headed and carry some emotional weight, be fervent and passionate yet not come off as a bully. And that is a duality that needs to be recognized, as it is one that is not applied to her male counterparts.
Clinton herself has spoken on this subject, but then, there comes into question the trustworthiness of politicians. Certainly this discussion could equate to her political gain, as it reaps sympathy, and how are we to weigh the significance of these two points? How are we to judge the honesty of candidates, while factoring in the warping nature of media coverage? This creates a dynamic catch-22 out of politics when we level the playing field beyond the demographic of old, white men.
In the case of Tessier-Levigne, the answer is simple. We are “stuck” with the decision the Board of Trustees has established, and there’s no reason to question his qualifications to serve as university president. Yet we should not silence the rhetoric of those perpetuating the gender/race question. At what point should we consider diversity over other qualifications? Certainly we should not allow ourselves to become blinded by one sole factor, but I do believe we have an obligation to see where a person is coming from. While I may not vote Clinton primarily on the basis of gender, I can easily commiserate with her. Yet just because a candidate shares an X-chromosome does not mean they will make policy decisions that I will agree with.
What we can be sure of is that we must seek to understand the political atmosphere, the dynamism of propaganda versus real sympathy, and attempt to make unbiased decisions. That’s the best we can do.
Contact Amara McCune at amccune2 ‘at’ stanford.edu.