In the fall 2023, my university invited me to be the “respondent” to a lecture by Joshua Dunn, a political science professor at the University of Tennessee-Knoxville who was hired by the state on a six-figure salary to counter perceived left-wing bias among college professors.
Arguably, I got the better of him, especially given subsequent events. But we agreed on the importance of free speech, even if that speech is sometimes offensive to those who see or hear it.
Credit: Handout
Credit: Handout
The subsequent events hit me in January, when I received several texts and phone calls from assorted Democratic operatives in Georgia asking me to run for office. A few phone calls later, including one to a former member of Congress, I was the Democratic candidate for state representative in Georgia’s First District, on the corner of Alabama and Tennessee.
The First District, which consists of Dade and Walker counties, is redder than a woodpecker’s head, and Marjorie Taylor Greene, the area’s representative in Congress, represents the will of the people for these folks. I was selected to be part of Georgia’s “Fighting 50,” Democrats running in red districts. We knew it was a Kamikaze mission. My motto was “if elected, I’ll demand a recount.”
My yard signs read “Decency, not disrespect,” and I had good discussions with many Republicans who were pleased to have a politician just listen to them. As a college professor, I have been a public speaker for 30 years, so I am comfortable talking and mixing with crowds. It was all actually fun.
And I got insights into our inevitable statewide loss when I was nominated (by whom I will never know) to be an at-large delegate to the national convention. At the mini convention in Macon in March, I met many party stalwarts and potentates; I shook hands, slapped backs and shared prayers.
But my outsider status and my chances for getting anywhere became quickly clear. The leadership circulated information that required the delegation consist of women in the majority, a set number of African Americans, Latinos and LGBTQIA people and so on. I am a white male heterosexual. When I asked a prominent African American woman who was an obvious party leader about my chances to participate more, she squinted sternly and said, “You are already represented. Everywhere.”
I made a well-received speech on the need to reach out to Republicans and others whom we usually don’t reach, but as the 18 delegates and six alternates were named one by one, I felt like I was waiting to be named to the starting roster of the baseball team in high school. I listened for my name to be called. It never was. I was one of the six or seven who didn’t make the cut.
As the campaign progressed, the disconnect between Atlanta and the northwest corner of the state became more clear. My county chairs and committees became my friends and mentors, as did Bob Herndon and Pam Woodley, organizers of the Fighting 50. Beyond that, my financial contributions and personal support came largely from high school and college friends in my home state of Connecticut and newer friends in neighboring Chattanooga, where I work as a professor of communication at the University of Tennessee-Chattanooga.
I also bonded with Shawn Harris, who ran for Congress against Green. We met when we both stood in line in Atlanta in January and qualified to run. There must have been three of him. There was a Shawn Harris at every meeting and every chicken dinner I attended. Harris gave each of the county committees $5,000, and I got a share of that. His money came from Washington, D.C. There was little or nothing like that out of the assorted state Democratic organizations based in Atlanta.
Over the next year, I met many good people — Democrat, Republican and independent — all of whom were grappling with the economy first and foremost, then abortion rights and, being rural Georgia, Second Amendment rights. I never had a bad conversation, though people sometimes became less friendly when I said I was a Democrat.
When all was said and done, I got 5,000 votes. The incumbent, Mike Cameron, whom everyone says is a nice guy, got 20,000. My 20% showing is similar to most of the Fighting 50. Harris got 36%, and he has promised to make another run at it in two years.
My 5,000 votes might not seem like a lot, but the difference between President-elect Donald Trump and President Joe Biden was less than 12,000 votes in 2020. There were no Democratic votes in my district in 2020 because I am the first Democrat to run in a decade. I will be back in 2026.
I don’t think any of the Fighting 50 actually won their races, but we made a difference. I can’t help but believe if we had a little more help, we might have kept the state blue.
Jack Zibluk is a professor of communication at the University of Tennessee-Chattanooga and a former editor and columnist for the Memphis Commercial Appeal and other publications.
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