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As a former college debater I am tempted to walk through Prof. Jacqueline Stevens’ rant against National Science Foundation funding of political science argument by painful argument. Others have taken this route already (see here for example). Thanks to the NSF funded quantitative research done by political scientist Prof. Frank Baumgartner I know such attempts are rarely effective.

A better approach is to recognize that issues can be considered from a number of different, and non-contradictory, positions. The initial position that takes root is most likely to determine policy outcomes. Using this approach Prof. Baumgartner and his colleagues explained the shift in the national death penalty debate and predicted its ongoing demise in a book they published several years ago. This approach speaks to the power of initial frames for the debate, and suggests that the way in to an argument is more important than specific support that follows – an argument recently extended by Prof. Stevens’ colleagues at Northwestern in their paper A Source of Bias in Public Opinion Stability. (the work was supported by Northwestern’s Applied Quantitative Methods Workshop).

As such, rather than wade through Prof. Stevens’ claims I would suggest she is providing the wrong answer to the wrong question. She assumes that specific prediction is the point of political science – as if rigorous research into the complexity of political systems is mean to give policymakers a collective sore knee when change is coming.

From where I sit as a political practitioner that’s not the point. I rely on quantitative and qualitative political science to better understand, and help my clients take advantage of, the political system. For example, I ran an organization that helped re-frame the national death penalty debate in a way that is leading to its demise. Our approach was informed by political science research and ultimately led to Prof. Baumgartner’s book mentioned above. Those who read political science literature are not surprised by the rise of “Super PACs” and the failure of campaign finance schemes to get money out of politics, are not surprised that health care companies are promising to keep popular reforms in the Affordable Care Act regardless of what the Supreme Court does, and are surely not surprised that popular political pundits are often wrong.

I use political science research the way that economists, baseball managers, and doctors use research in their fields - to check my assumptions and biases, to better understand the situation at hand, and to help inform how I should therefore act.

NSF funded quantitative political science, as well as qualitative political science, political theory, philosophy, communications theory, and rhetorical theory have helped me and my clients achieve a number of important wins over the years and have helped avoid a lot of pitfalls (I have a lot of “don’t do that” conversations). To suggest that NSF funds can’t predict the date of a coup or the winner of the next World Cup is to miss the point.

Last week I wrote about a recent survey of advocates and Congressional staff as reported in Politico. The survey found that both lobbyists and advocates consider “credible, reliable information” critical in advocacy.

That, apparently, is where the agreement ends. According to the Politico piece, lobbyists (not surprisingly) report their efforts have a significant effect on Congressional actions. Congressional staffs, who are loathe to admit to researchers (let along themselves) that they are empty intellectual and political vessels waiting to be filled with talking points, report that lobbyists do not have a significant effect on their behavior.

Both are, of course, right.

The research found what anyone who has ever set foot in a Congressional office knows – there is way too much to think about and way too little time to think about it. Policymakers and staff are drowning in information. Most get well in excess of 100 emails a day, field countless calls (and ignore countless more), attend endless meetings and briefings, and are deluged with paper. In addition to information staff are drowning in the sounds of phones ringing, other peoples’ conversations, and the TV (usually tuned to the floor of the House or Senate, CNN or Fox News – except during recess when ESPN is on).

In this environment, to steal a line from Iyengar and Kinder lobbyists don’t tell staff what to think, but rather what to think about. There is an agenda setting function of advocacy. Advocates are able to say “of all the stuff you could think about, you should think about this, and you should think about it in this context, with this set of impacts, and therefore act in this way.” Good advocates move an issue to the top of the pile, and do so in a way that makes the advocate’s solution the preferred option for the policymaker. They are able to say “this is something that matters to your boss’s constituents, it goes to the heart of what he believes in and why he ran for Congress, and intervening on the issue in the way I suggest will not only fix the problem but will result in positive political results.”

Attention is the most precious commodity a policymaker has. Attention is zero-sum, there are a limited number of things a person can think about or deal with; attention paid to issue A is attention not paid to issues B-Z. Further, issue A can be considered from angles 1-7. By saying “issue A matters from angle 3 (and thus not only do issues B-Z not matter but angles 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, and 7 don’t matter)” an advocate is exercising tremendous power.

That a lobbyist can rarely change a policymaker’s mind is of course true; once taken a position is difficult to change. But to suggest that a failure to change a mind is a failure of advocacy is to seriously miss the boat.

A recent survey of how advocates and Congressional staff view various tactics to reach policymakers found a number of differences in views about what works and what doesn’t (more on those in later posts). One broad area of agreement, according to an article on the report in Politico, is “the importance of credible, reliable information as the basis for doing business.”

Congressional staffers are drowning in information. Every letter, call, email, report, lobbying visit, text, Tweet, and blimp fly-by proclaims that only the co-sponsorship or defeat of HR 818 will prevent global doom. Figuring out what really matters, to whom, and why is among the most difficult tasks a staffer faces. Compounding the problem of too much information is the problem of too little time. A typical House office will have four or five legislative assistants. One LA will responsible for one of the Representative’s committee assignments, a second LA responsible for a second committee, and the two or three remaining LAs will handle everything else.

The best advocates help legislative staff sort through the mess and clearly identify what is important and what can be ignored (“only my issue matters” is not good advocacy, “within my issue area, your boss should be most concerned about these two things, the rest are important but given your boss’s interests and constituency and given what’s going on in the world, these are the two to pay attention to” is good input). The best advocates are honest about the limits of their own data and arguments, are honest about who opposes the position and why, and are honest about possible political and policy implications of action. This sometimes means saying things like, “that bill matters to us, but given your boss it probably makes sense to vote against us in this case…” or “there will be more important issues later, don’t worry about this one…” as well as saying “this is really important, XX number of people in your boss’s district are directly impacted by it…”

The best advocates provide accurate, timely information in a digestible and usable format when that information is needed most – a great backgrounder that arrives 10 minutes after the vote is useless, a backgrounder with bad information is worse. Both define you as someone not worth listening to or working with.

Seen in this light the best advocates are extensions of Congressional staff. The best advocates are not advocates for their organization or issue, rather they are advocates for the Congressional office with which they are working.

If you worked for a policymaker you would try to provide the best, most reliable, most accurate information possible in a format that was useful in the moment and that was provided in as timely a manner as possible. As an advocate you should do the same.

Most of have benefitted from the career wisdom of others. Last week I shared some of that wisdom from friends and former students. Less often discussed is what makes for good advice – what advice is there for advice givers? What makes career advice good? Two friends and former students offer their suggestions.

Continue to pass along your advice for job seekers and advice givers and I’ll continue to post your thoughts in this space.

From friend and former student Aaron Huertas -

“Most people are bad at articulating their goals and desires. They're too focused on outcomes.

So they might approach you saying, "I want to work in x field." Well, why? What motivates you to do comms, be a fundraiser, work on a given issue, etc.? If you can answer those questions, you're going to be able to more easily find the communities where you'll fit in and succeed and in which you can become a leader.”

And from another friend and former student (who would rather remain anonymous) -

“Having received a lot of career advice over the past year and a half from many people who I respect and trust…here are a few thoughts

When I ask for advice, I'm either:
a) looking for intellectual cover for a decision I've all but settled on in my heart of hearts
b) drifting aimlessly and looking for someone to give me a push to continue my drift in some general direction.
c) looking for a pep-talk or reassurance to recharge my intellectual and emotional batteries

I find the most productive advice conversations go something like this: I lay out my situation in as much detail as I can, answer any questions or provide clarification and the person gives me a decisive recommendation. The recommendation can have qualifications like "However, you should keep in mind that x,y and z could potentially happen" but it should be a clear "I think you should do this" and leave it to me to evaluate the recommendation. I think too often people don't want to be held responsible if someone follows their advice and it doesn't work out, so they hedge. I would be perfectly willing to sign some sort of advice waiver before these conversations releasing the person from any liability if it meant that it would get the unvarnished truth and straightforward recommendations.”

This is the third in a series.

Last week I offered caveats on advice for job seekers, and solicited advice from others. I also sent an email people who have taken my classes over the years and asked both for their advice and for advice to those giving advice. Over the next few days I will be posting some of the replies. The third piece of solicited advice comes from a friend and former student, Kristen Liebert Gyulafia.

"I have served as a career advisor to a few [George Washington University] alum, and was surprised by their lack of career education on a few of the following topics. I'm sure these are in your pile of ideas, but hopefully I can add a few necessary details.

1. Be a the best intern ever. Most college degrees do not prepare graduates for actual careers. If you want to have a resume that is worth looking at, take advantage of the many opportunities to intern while in college. Even if you go to school outside of a major city there are many summer and semester long programs available. Also, internships rarely fall into your lap. Figure out what would be the "ideal" internship and utilize your professors for connections to places that would be a good fit. AND, when you land an internship, kick ass. If you take initiative and prove your worth, a paid position may just open up for you.

2. Relationships matter/Don't burn ANY bridges. You know that annoying kid next to you in class who lacks an understanding of the word "humility?" He/she may be the only connection you ever have to your dream job.

3. Applying for jobs online has 1% chance of landing you an interview. Most of the time, jobs are posted after the people in hiring positions already have a clear idea of who they want. Unless you have a random connection to the person reading your email, they probably won't look at your resume. In order to be the person they want before the job is posted, get out there and make connections. Just like internships, find companies that are a good match and use your connections to set up informational interviews. Or send thoughtful, well written letters of interest. If they're not hiring now, they may be in a month. If they like you, they'll be grateful that they can save time and money by not having to post the job opening."

This is the second in a series.

Last week I offered caveats on advice for job seekers, and solicited advice from others. I also sent an email people who have taken my classes over the years and asked both for their advice and for advice to those giving advice. Over the next few days I will be posting some of the replies. The second piece of solicited advice comes from a friend and former student, Dan Curran

When Socrates learned the young Hippocrates in Plato’s dialogue Protagoras wanted to study under the sophist Protagoras, Socrates asked what the sophist taught. Hippocrates said that Protagoras “makes men wise.” But wise about what? A musician teaches wisdom about music, a carpenter about building, and a doctor about medicine – what does a sophist teach wisdom about? Hippocrates didn’t know, something that Socrates thought was exceedingly dangerous; for Socrates knowledge was “the food of the soul” and bad knowledge could poison the soul, so it was very important to know what one was getting into. Socrates then asked Protagoras what he taught and he said that “a student will learn what he comes to learn. And this is prudence in affairs private as well as public; he will learn to order his own house in the best manner, and he will be able to speak and act for the best in the affairs of the state.” In other words, he will learn how to be a “good citizen” (or the “art of politics,” depending on the translation).

The advice from friend and former student Dan Curran echoes Socrates’ concern.

“One thing I wish someone would have forced me to do when I asked for advice was encourage me to find a policy area that I care about and can become proficient in.

I somehow managed to complete the undergrad and graduate programs [in the School of Media and Public Affairs at The George Washington University] without ever being forced to even reflect on a policy area I should start learning about.

I am definitely interested in communications, but that type of position exists in all walks of the policy world. I don't think it's enough to want to "work in a press shop" - everyone in this town has a policy area they are proficient in and I feel like a lot of us press secretary-wannabes easily miss the boat on that important point.”

Last week I offered caveats on advice for job seekers, and solicited advice from others. I also sent an email people who have taken my classes over the years and asked both for their advice and for advice to those giving advice. Over the next few days I will be posting some of the replies. The first solicited advice comes from a friend and former student, Corey Barenbrugge.

The best advice I ever received and took was to focus your job search. This is especially true for young, first- or second-time job seekers. Plenty of my friends, come graduation time, took the spray and pray approach to their search, applying for a bunch of jobs (25-50, or more). In doing this, their cover letters and resume were standard, and their follow-up suffered. Subsequently they received standard responses from HR inviting them to try again later. Many of them couldn't get a single interview with this approach.

I focused my search on jobs I found appealing. I wrote different cover letters and resumes for each application, tailoring my language and approach to the organization I was applying to work for. I also looked for connections I could leverage to help bring my application to the top of the pile.

In all, I applied to seven jobs, received interviews for three, and made it to the final round in two. I ultimately received an offer from GW (for a job for which I was three years underqualified) that was hard to refuse.

I think this approach is the best way to find a job in which you will excel. It's also a great way to learn more about yourself and the strengths and skills you bring to the table (as you explore your experiences while you write fresh cover letters and resumes). Additionally, by not always focusing on the search and initial application, you have more time to research the organizations and jobs your applying for, which makes for a better interview.

A good way to take this approach is to write what I call the "ultimate" resume in which everything you could ever want to say about all of your experiences is laid out, as well as a standard resume. The ultimate resume is usually several pages long and is only for your reference so you can pick, choose, and refine the points you want to make for each of the jobs you apply for. The standard resume is for when you when you meet new people or someone agrees to shop your resume around. It's a well-written one-page document you can distribute quickly.

In DC we have several seasons in addition to winter, spring, summer, and fall. For example, August, which is like summer only much more so. Other seasons include tourist season, protest season, and intern season. May and June also appear to be job hunting season – I just offered sage advice for the second time this week to a friend of a friend looking to get a start in DC.

Given the season I am revisiting a theme from a January post.

I am pretty much always happy to talk to anyone (about anything), and I typically enjoy the students, friends, friends of friends, cousins, and so forth I meet. Each conversation is different, but some of the advice remains the same.

Before offering the standard advice, I offer two standard caveats. The caveats are below, the standard advice will be the subject of future posts. (If you have standard advice or caveats let me know at ploge@milopublicaffairs.com and I’ll share them in this space).

Caveat One: All advice is bad.
Advice typically comes in two flavors: my life is a wreck, for the love of heaven don’t do what I did; or I am a huge success, do as I did and you too will find happiness and joy. We can only tell you the stories we have told ourselves about our lives, and those stories may or may not be accurate. When someone asks “how did you get where you are?” the most honest answers should include “I don’t know” and “dumb luck”, but those are neither satisfying to say nor hear. So we talk about leveraging relationships, being the first in and last out and such (good to do, but everyone does those things). Most advice is probably as helpful as not - it’s up the receiver to figure out the difference.

Caveat Two: My advice is uniquely bad.
If you’re right out of school looking to get a start in politics my advice is probably uniquely bad. I started volunteering on campaigns when Carter was President. In my first “press” position (volunteer) I delivered press releases to local media on my bicycle. My first internship was when Reagan was in his first term. The political world in which I grew up and got my start is very different than yours. A corollary is that I am less likely to get you a job than one of your peers is; I hear about more jobs for senior level people than junior level people (and by the time I hear about an entry level opening the person leaving the position has already told all of his or her friends). You learn about jobs at your experience level from people at your experience level.

That said, there is of course a list of standard advice which is hopefully more useful than not and which will be the topic of another blog post (and most of which can be distilled as ‘don’t be a jerk’).

Email me your best advice at ploge@milopublicaffairs.com and I’ll post it on the blog.

When you’re speaking, own the space or it will own you. Move the microphone, step in front of the podium, if you don’t like the lights ask to have them turned up or down.

Successful advocacy requires creating a connection, it requires identifying with the audience and making the audience identify with and feel connected to the advocate. Anything that gets in the way of creating that connection is bad, anything that helps create that connection is good. That’s why blast emails to millions of people have personalized openings and casual subject lines. Treat space the same way you would treat mass email – to the extent possible break down artificial barriers between you and your audience and own the relationship.

Last night my lovely young wife and I attended a terrific event benefitting DC Scores, an after-school literacy, civic engagement, and soccer program in DC. In between fun food and a silent art auction we listened to speeches, a song and vocal performance from a local Grammy award nominated artist, and six of the DC Scores students performing their poems. The stage had a large podium with a microphone downstage right (a seriously large podium, it could have hidden a small refrigerator) and a microphone on a stand downstage center.

Virtually all the speakers and performers tried to contort their bodies around the mics. Other than the students and the professional performer all of the speakers worked from behind the (massive) podium. They chose to move away from the spotlight, away from the obvious focal point of the room, and hide behind a big box. Only one or two moved the mic to fit their own height and approach.

One speaker – who is a television commentator – stepped behind the podium, which dwarfed him, and leaned into the mic so his “P”s sounded like small explosions. He would have been better served by pushing the mic away from him so he could continue to lean forward and keep a reasonable tone. Or better yet avoiding he podium entirely. All of the speakers would have been better served by stepping out in front of the podium, taking the mic off the stand downstage center and using the space. Even the professional performer, who did use the mic in the center of the stage, left the mic stand at a height set for a fifth grader.

The event was terrific, the organization does great work, and the student poets were fantastic (several took the mic off the stand, all used the space, none accepted the set up as a set of obstacles to work around). But it could have been better and more powerful had the speakers stepped out from behind the Volkswagen sized podium, taken the mic out of the stand, and owned the space.

When you speak to a group take the stage, don’t be its victim.

Below is the final exam for the political rhetoric course I teach at GW. I've been told students have fun answering the question, I certainly have fun writing it.

What's your answer?

Modern Political Communication and Rhetoric
Spring 2012
Final Exam
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After four years at GW you launch into a successful career as a strategist, author and pundit. The work is fun and financially rewarding.

Over a lot of years in the political business you accumulate a lot of stories, some of which are funny, some sad, some that beg larger questions. And over the years you tell these stories to friends and family, and you make students at your alma mater sit through them whenever you come back to speak. And inevitably people tell you stories are moving and funny and make them think and you should write a book someday. And inevitably you believe them. But rather than write a book you decide to write a TV show (you after all were inspired to go into politics by “The West Wing”). You figure that the DC political show has been done to death, and that the lessons you’ve learned apply to small towns as well as Washington; what makes your stories interesting isn’t that they are about politics but rather that they are about people.

So you write a pilot about small town politics in the fictional town of West Plymouth and work some connections to get it read. It gets read and optioned by HBO.

One of the first challenges is finding a suitable location, a town small enough to make the point that all politics is local (really local), that is close enough to a big city to make it easy for the cast and crew to get to, and that is willing to be taken over for a few weeks by a production company shooting exteriors and establishing shots. You join a location scout and one of the show’s producers and go looking for an authentic and convenient town that can serve as West Plymouth.

About half way between Philadelphia and DC you find New Providence.

New Providence is perfect. There is a mix of the very old and very new, setting up obvious points of conflict between the old-timers and the yuppies. There’s a diner that serves locals and a “coffee and tea emporium” down the street that serves the same muffins but for twice as much. There’s a hardware store, a small grocery store, an antique store (used to be a consignment store, but you can charge rich tourists more if you call it “authentic” rather and “used”). A new-ager has moved in and set up a yoga studio. There’s a bar mostly populated by locals during the week and tourists for lunch on weekends. Completely randomly, the coach of DC United who also happens to be a painter has opened a studio and art gallery on Main Street.

The producers meet with city officials, cut a deal and pretty soon the town is taken over by TV crews. The crews leave within a few weeks and the town is back to normal. Part of the deal is that the true identity of the town is kept secret.

The show is a hit and runs for several seasons, sells lots of DVDs and is pirated like mad. Because it was your idea you have a cameo role in the show, turning up from time to time as the grouchy mechanic who runs a garage and tow service that seems to specialize in obscure and unreliable British sports cars.

Eventually all good things come to an end, including the show. You get a check from time to time but otherwise it’s one more random stop in your career.

Several years go by and you realize that you’re done with politics. It’s not that you’re bitter or disillusioned, you’re just done. The checks you got from the show eventually added up to a fair amount of cash, and you think “since the money came from the show and the show was based in New Providence, and I played a mechanic on the show, it only seems to make sense that I use the money to buy a garage in New Providence.” (That the idea makes sense is an indication of just how done with DC you are). You close your firm, you sell your condo, and you buy the old garage in New Providence that served as the garage in the show. Because all garages have a dog, you get a dog and name him Tock. You buy a couple of old British sports cars, and spend your days tinkering on your cars, tinkering on friends’ cars, and telling actual customers that you’re just too busy to take on any new work right now. You don’t tell anyone you’re the guy who wrote the show about their town and they don’t recognize you, to most folks you’re the guy who bought the garage and who has the great dog with a weird name.

New Providence is a good place to be, but could use some help. The high school could use some repairs and the athletic fields are a bit of a mess. The infrastructure is pretty old and the age is beginning to show. Nothing drastic, no bridges collapsing or anything, but things are getting frayed around the edges. You notice but don’t much care – you’re a little frayed around the edges yourself.

About a year into your new life HBO decides to run a reunion special of West Plymouth and issue the old DVDs with exclusive never before seen footage. As part of the package they want to reveal the actual town’s name.

The HBO executives argue that revealing the name of the town could be a huge boon – the town could put up a sign saying “Welcome to New Providence and West Plymouth” and list the name of the mayor of the real and fictional towns. They could rename a store or two after the names of the stores on the show, basically turn the town into a TV set of itself. New people would come and eat in the diner and buy commemorative t-shirts, all of which would mean more tax dollars to pay for needed improvements.

Not everyone loves the idea. Some folks argue that the interest will fade and New Providence will turn into another old empty lot when interest inevitably fades – it will be worse off than before. Besides, these are real people who live in a real place; they don’t want to be turned into props for some publicity stunt.

You don’t care one way or the other.

One morning while sitting at the diner, drinking cheap coffee from a chipped mug, you overhear two locals debating the issue. When one says he just went back and watched all the shows you quickly finish your coffee, tuck your Communicator under your arm (more on that in a moment), and duck out the door – you don’t want to be recognized.

But all good things must come to an end.

On the street you run into one of the HBO folks who immediately grabs you and gives you the fake hug that politicians and television producers seem to learn in some secret lab in the New Mexico desert. He pesters and prods you to help persuade the town to take the deal. He offers you more money and he flatters and annoys you into saying “I’ll think about it.”

As the producer heads for a $5 cup of hand squeezed organic karmically balanced feng shui all natural green tea with a hint of lemon and free range honey at the “emporium,” you shake your head and to head to the garage to see you can’t finally fix the speedometer on your 1974 Triumph Spitfire. As you turn the guy from the diner who just spent three days watching the damn show nearly plows into you. And of course he recognizes you. And of course he thinks you ruined his town. Your snotty, condescending, too cute by half, patronizing, absurd mockery of real America makes his blood boil. And that you decided to take on your own fictional role in his actual town just makes it worse. You owe it to him and everyone else in town to make the HBO people go away once and for all.

You see no choice but to get involved – better to have half the town hate you than all of it.

The final deal with HBO – the agreement to go public, votes on the new signs and marketing, new zoning rules that will allow a certain level of exploitation and inevitable tourist absurdity – goes before the city council in three weeks. The vote will follow the only scheduled open meeting between now and then. There are two options: pass the new rules or block them. There are no compromises to be struck or ‘third ways’ to be found.

The town has one paper, The Communicator, a weekly run by M.E. Sprengelmeyer. M.E. is a former reporter in DC who you know a bit from your time in politics. Like most reporters he got laid off, and like some he found a little town with a little paper that needed running. He writes about school sports and town events (when the New Providence FHA team won the state title, it was a very big deal), but mostly uses the paper as an excuse to write a weekly column about whatever occurs to him. M.E. also collects accordions (he describes himself as a self-taught rock and roll accordion player – tells people he found, and played, an accordion in one of Saddam Hussein’s palaces when he was covering the Gulf War) and he is a hilarious poker player.

There are four members of the town council. The mayor votes to break ties. That means votes can be 4-0, 3-1, or 3-2 because a 2-2 vote would force the mayor to decide the winner.

The Council
Jeff Miller owns the one bar in town. It’s a local place, not fancy but mostly clean. The kind of place you can sit at the bar, have a burger and beer and watch whatever is on ESPN without anyone bothering you. There is a small stage for the occasional band or show, typically friends of Jeff’s or whoever M.E. can get to join an accordion-led jam session. Jeff sponsors a local little league team, does his part in the community, and is generally a low-key guy. He’s on the council because civic participation is a good thing to do, and to keep the rules from either getting too restrictive (he does sell booze for a living) or too weird. It’s the perfect local bar. No one is sure where Jeff’s from, he’s not an urban refugee like you are, but he’s also not a local who traces his roots back however many generations this town goes.

John Philip is one of those guys who traces his family roots back to the founding of the town. John owns the hardware store, and holds forth on all that is wrong with modern society to anyone who’ll listen. He’s the lead organizer of the Memorial Day events, he’s a veteran and his dad was among the first people in Hiroshima after the US dropped the bomb in WW II. He is the guy for whom the phrase “cut off your nose to spite your face” was invented.

Kim Deal is one of those people Philip can’t stand. She owns the “coffee and tea emporium” on Main Street that sells teas, coffee in presses and espresso machines that are over-engineered and cost more to repair than your car. There are artsy teapots for sale, some wind chimes and dream catchers, that sort of thing. She was a successful real estate agent in Washington, specializing in high end condos and luxury buildings; she tells people that she got tired of the money chase and the endlessly pointless small talk and pretense that is Washington (“people in Washington wear masks to hide their masks, it’s worse than a lack of depth or soul, Washington lacks even any meaningful surface…”) That her departure from DC coincided with the collapse of the condo market there is, from her telling, coincidental (“it was a sign, a blessing really…”) She calls herself spiritual but has a hard time explaining exactly she believes in. She has also maintained her real estate license and does a pretty good business selling and renting homes in New Providence.

Sarah Warren is a history teacher at New Providence high. Her son grew up in New Providence and graduated from New Providence high. Warren got involved in politics as an outgrowth of being an involved parent and because she thinks it is the sort of thing that history teachers ought to do. She was active in the PTA because her son was a student, she ran for the local school board to ensure that books weren’t banned from the school library and that “intelligent design” wasn’t taught in science classes. Serving on the City Council was the next logical step. To the extent she has a political ideology it is best described as “pragmatic progressive” (or in the eyes of some, “limousine liberal”).

Harry Mitchell is the mayor. He’s a good guy, runs the diner, and likes being called The Mayor. He likes the town and the folks who live there, likes throwing out the ceremonial first pitch of the little league season, and running the grill at the Memorial Day celebration. He likes to govern by consensus and is good at getting people around a table and affably working things out – “what this debate needs is a little pie, why don’t we move this meeting to a booth at the diner and we can figure something out” is his preferred (and often successful) approach. Mitchell likes being the mayor of a town in which that solution can work; New Providence is a big enough place to have problems, but small enough that they can usually be talked through to an amicable solution. As you might expect, he dislikes voting to break ties, he prefers to either support something early in the hopes the decision will be a near-consensus, or when the outcome is a foregone conclusion. He likes to be the reconciler, not the decider.
________________________________________
What are you going to do, and why are you going to do it?

In your answer be sure to indicate who your audience is, and why; how you intend to approach the campaign, and why; and how you are going to frame the debate and why.

Focus on strategy and approach rather than tactics and tools – for example, if you are going to hand out fliers describe their tone, but you don’t have to write them.

Your ideas must be feasible and reasonable.