The caucus system sucks.
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I spoke with hundreds of Democratic voters in the days surrounding the Nevada caucus. One takeaway is clear: this system is not working for them.
I just got back from three days of volunteering for the Democratic caucus in Nevada. When I arrived in Las Vegas, I was excited to speak with voters about the process of selecting a nominee for president. But by the end of my trip, I was convinced: this system is hurting them.
I’ll tell you why. But first, what is a caucus?
Nevada Democrats participate in primaries by attending a community meeting, called a caucus. This year, caucuses were held at public schools. Voters gathered in classrooms, divided by precincts.
A precinct leader would ask Hillary Clinton and Bernie Sanders supporters to gather on opposite sides of the room. Undecided voters could be swayed by neighbors. Votes were tallied, and delegates were assigned.
In Nevada and 12 other states, attending a caucus is the only way to support your candidate in a primary, with very few exceptions. You can’t vote by mail. You can’t vote in advance. And there aren’t multiple shifts to accomodate different schedules.
“This caucus thing — this is my last one.” -A Nevadan at Western High School, where voters waited in line outside for nearly two hours.
Four reasons the caucus is bad for voters
The Nevada caucus is a perfect formula for decreasing voter turnout, for favoring certain groups over others, and for turning people against the political process. We should get rid of it. Here’s why.
1. Caucuses place an unfair burden on particular groups — like poor people, the elderly and non-English speakers.
I knocked on hundreds of doors to encourage Nevadans to participate in the caucus. Many voters wanted to, but simply couldn’t. A middle-aged man had a shift he couldn’t cancel at work. An older white woman was too sick. An older black woman didn’t have a car.
Others had no idea what a caucus was. On Friday, I handed English fliers to Spanish speakers. The field office had run out of bilingual material.
On Saturday, I was assigned to help out at Western High School, which hosted more than a dozen precincts representing hundreds of people. The line began forming at 10:30 a.m. The caucus didn’t begin until nearly 2 p.m. Registration was painfully slow.
Several parents had brought young children, who quickly grew antsy. One couple asked if childcare would be provided. It wouldn’t be.
A woman almost left early because she was diabetic. Her blood sugar was low, and there was no food at our location. A campaign volunteer was nice enough to buy her a lemonade at a vending machine.
If you’re old; if you have obligations you can’t break; if you’re a caretaker; if you can’t stand in the sun for hours — the caucuses aren’t designed for you.
2. Caucuses place too much decision-making power in the hands of unofficial leaders who aren’t thoroughly trained.
Caucuses are led by a confusing mix of campaign staffers, representatives from the Democratic Party, precinct leaders, volunteers and more. When voters have questions, it’s unclear who has true authority. At my location, the people in charge were well-intentioned but ill-equipped.
One person said that out-of-state volunteers could speak with undecided voters once the caucus had begun. Another person said those volunteers couldn’t even step inside. These disputes were common, and there were no definitive answers.
During an argument about when to let precinct leaders inside the building to set up their classrooms, one woman screamed emphatically, “I have legal on the phone! I have legal on the phone!”
No one knew who “legal” was.
I was personally involved in an argument about the cut-off time to get in line, which was noon. One woman at the back of the line had been given a small red sign, indicating that no one could participate after her.
But a group of about eight people had gathered behind her. They claimed they’d arrived around 11:30 a.m., but had stepped out of line temporarily. One man had an inhaler; another had a cane — the rest were mostly their friends and family members.
The precinct chair, a Bernie supporter, told them they couldn’t vote. Coincidentally, all of the voters were Hillary supporters.
I was asked to arbitrate, and eventually they were let in. There was no way to confirm that they had truly arrived before 12 p.m.
3. Caucuses create a situation in which your vote — typically a private decision — can be publicly influenced, for better or worse.
No one is objective at a caucus. Leaders wore their preferences on their sleeves, literally. My precinct chair — the man who had the final say in every argument— proudly displayed his Bernie button on his name tag. Inside of classrooms, blue Hillary stickers and purple Bernie t-shirts were being worn not just by voters, but by people who were tallying votes.
In line, volunteers raced to pass out swag to represent their candidates. Undecided voters were courted by both campaigns, and many laughed as they showed me collections of both Hillary and Bernie stickers.
Instead of being able to make a personal decision, voters were forced out into the open. For shy Nevadans, the situation was unsettling. Inside of classrooms, outspoken people held all of the power to sway (or intimidate) the swing voters — regardless of whether their arguments were sound.
4. Caucuses make people hate political participation.
Here’s the bottom line: caucuses destroy voters’ faith in politics.
Rather than being inspiring, the experience at my location was overwhelmingly negative. The myth of the constructive community meeting proved to be just that: a myth.
People got angry at the weather — it was 70+ degrees. They got angry at technology — a pre-registration app seemed to have failed. They got angry at us. They got angry at each other.
A middle-aged white man told me: “I’m in the army; I’ve seen some bad things. This caucus thing — this is my last one. They go back to a primary, or I’m not participating.”
When the caucus was over, I thanked voters for participating as they walked outside. Multiple people replied by saying: “I never will again.”
I believe them. In 2008, nearly 120,000 Nevadans turned out for the caucus. This year, 80,000 did.
The caucus system has some bright points that are worth pointing out. Because the outcome is dependent on turnout, caucuses force candidates to invest in a heavy ground game — they have to go into communities and convince people to show up. In Nevada, day-of registration was available, which was helpful for first-time voters.
There were moments of party camaraderie, but those moments were vastly overshadowed by angry words, sharp accusations and harsh complaints.
If the party wants voters to believe that its elections are designed to foster participation, not thwart it, the right course of action is clear. The caucus system sucks — and we should end it.
