Yesterday, I posted my case against Gov. Palin. A short while later — per several reader challenges — I retracted one of the points from that case, and then started to seriously question the other points.
In the end, though I’m still not a Palin fan, I suspect my rush to judgment may have blinded me to certain nuances about her record — nuances that I’d otherwise gladly investigate and consider, if it were another candidate, such as Sens. McCain and Obama, and to a lesser degree, Sen. Biden. Hell, I’ve given Sen. Clinton more rope than I’ve offered Gov. Palin.
It now appears that my “research” on Palin was really not research at all, but a seek-and-destroy mission, seizing anything that supported my pre-determined views. Shame on me. That’s not what a so-called moderate should do.
In turn, this self-critique led me to wonder (in installment #568 of Pete’s flip-flops) if I will ever be able to say, with confidence, for whom I’ll vote this November. And then I read Polimom’s confession — re: her trip back to the fence.
At the risk of generating the same extensive debate she did, I’d respectfully ask Polimom to save some room for me on that fence.
To be clear, I’m not filling my fence-seat just yet. I’m only making a reservation in advance.
I still think the predominant issue in this election is foreign policy, and I still think the Obama-Biden ticket holds the advantage on that issue. Biden has the experience. Obama has the right tone/approach (intelligent, contemplative, cautious) – i.e., the very tone/approach we sorely need and have sorely missed during the last eight years. Meanwhile, I keep pushing my concerns about Obama-Biden domestic policy to the background, believing that for all their big-government inclinations, they surely could not screw things up as badly as you-know-who’s administration.
Then again — given the conflicting voices in my head, the mountains of doubt from which those voices bounce and echo, and the expanding list of questions about what I really politically believe — I could easily be jumping on and off the fence another 568 times before November 4.
It’s painful to be me. It really is.