This depressing special primary

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Last night, my uncle asked me if he had to vote today. He was worried that he did,, because he didn’t know of anyone running in the special GOP primary to replace Lindsey Graham on the November ballot that he could possibly vote for.

He made me panic for a moment. I was pretty sure the primary wasn’t today, but two things caused me to be uncertain: I’ve been busy lately, and I really, really didn’t want to think about this primary anyway. The options on offer are too depressing. Anyway, I checked, and no, it’s next Tuesday.

But I suppose that means I need to write something about it now. The fact that I’m writing far less about politics now doesn’t mean I ignore it completely.

When we were last on this subject, I had just taken down my “Annie” sign because Lindsey had just died, suddenly and rather shockingly. I took it down as respect for the dead (I don’t know if that’s an established custom, but perhaps it should be). I’d like to say I also did so because I had high hopes for what the special primary might come up with, but of course, I can’t. It’s more that I had only put the sign up because a) she was the only alternative to the sad disaster that Lindsey Graham had become, and b) my neighbor who had put up a sign I gave him in the last general election had given me this sign. In fact, he put it up (after asking my permission), and I just left it. I lack enthusiasm for Dr. Andrews, which I can address separately after this unpromising current exercise is over.

In the meantime, I wish I could say something more positive than “I lack enthusiasm” about one of these candidates in the special primary. But I can’t. Maybe some miracle will happen between now and next Tuesday. It it does, I’ll say something about it.

The saddest thing I can say about this crew is that among those I know (and I only vote for people I know something about, unlike so many), the one who comes closest to being a reasonable person is Mark Sanford. Yes, that’s how bad it is. If you don’t know what I mean, look at what I’ve written about him over the years. You’ll see that at first I liked him, but then was soon appalled, and kind of stuck with that. But then, he was appalling by pre-Trump standards. And as you know, if we could resurrect Richard Nixon and put him in the White House in place of what we’ve got, I’d be a pretty happy camper.

So let’s start with him and run down the rest of the list. I’ll say less about those I know less about:

  1. Mark Sanford. What he’s offering is pretty much what he’s always offered. The best thing I can say about him is that he is not a Trumpista. And that’s important. Beyond that… well, he brags about being a budget-cutter. He brags (in one of the many texts I’ve received) that as governor, he “balanced 8 state budgets.” No, he didn’t. The Legislature did. The state constitution requires that the state budet be balanced, every year, and that would have happened no matter who the gov was. What he did do, one year, was put on a childish display by vetoing the entire budget. It was the most grossly irresponsible thing I’d seen a chief executive do until Trump came along. The grownups in the Legislature fixed it, of course, as Sanford knew they would (which to me makes it worse, not better — he was leaving it up to the people who actually cared about the job, rather than pulling stunts). Folks, this guy is THE most extreme libertarian I have every encountered. Most libertarians don’t like paying taxes to support government. This guy didn’t want any money spent on government, even if the money fell from the sky. In 2009, with our economy a shambles, he tried to refuse $700 million in federal stimulus funds (that was going to be spent anyway, somewhere), simply on the principle that he didn’t want SC to have any more money to spend on government services. That time, the state Supreme Court stepped in as the grownup. Hey, if you like that stuff, go ahead and vote for him. But if he’s elected, you might want to put a bell on him, in case he wanders off again.
  2. Darline Graham. I was happy to accept her as her brother’s interim replacement for a few months. I didn’t think about beyond that. If I had, I would have said this was her chance to define herself for voters. Unfortunately, she is using this opportunity to define herself in terms of what her brother became after 2016, not what he was before. On the good side, she does proudly mention on her website her experiences serving in state government leadership roles. But that’s not her headline. Her big, bold headline is “Proudly Endorsed By President Trump.” Most voters are doing well if they know even one thing about a candidate, so that’s the one thing she wants them to know definitely. If she wins the primary, maybe she’ll drop that garbage and offer herself as a serious alternative to the Democratic nominee. But that remains to be seen.
  3. Ralph Norman. Remember when, early this year, I acknowledged an ad of his as a nominee for worst political ad for 2026 so far? The ad brought up so many depressing thoughts that I took the post down right after I put it up. I just didn’t want to bring up such things, much less discuss them on a blog. Unfortunately, there was a comment or two before I could take it down, so I decided I had to put it back up. I cursed my luck. I just wanted to get back to writing about more pleasant things. Well, now I can tell you that nothing Norman did or said after that caused him to rise in my estimation. This was not a surprise. I’d known about Norman from well before he insulted us by running for governor. Here’s something from 2023. If you want to go see if you can find something positive about him, here’s his website.
  4. Russell Fry. He’s technically a member of Congress (representing a district that didn’t even exist when I was at the paper, and I can’t name his predecessors either), but beyond that, if you mentioned his name to me before this, it might have sounded familiar, but I would have guessed he was a backbencher in the Legislature. In other words, I knew nothing about him until he ran for this. And everything I’ve seen since then tells me he’s trying to outRalphNorman Ralph Norman. Here’s his website.
  5. Duke Buckner. All I know is that I saw a picture, and aside from being a pleasant-looking fellow, I notice he’s black. Although it might be cool — in a weird, ironic, misleading way — for both of our U.S. senators to be black Republicans, it wouldn’t be cool enough to vote for him unless I know a lot more. Preferably something having nothing to do with Identity Politics. Here’s his website. One good thing I see is that he doesn’t mention Trump on the main page. That’s something…
  6. Samuel Sam Shepherd. I don’t know why his name is on the ballot like that. Maybe he doesn’t want you to think he’s this guy. Not that I would have. Here’s his website… No, wait — I couldn’t find one in a brief search. Here’s a TV news story. And here’s a Facebook page. Let me know if y’all find a website.
  7. Danny Ford II. I don’t see a website for him, either (but maybe I’m not looking for it correctly). Here’s his Facebook page. I see that he is a farmer, that his father had something to do with football (not that I’d hold that against the son), and that the party tried to keep him off the primary ballot. The reason they tried that makes me glad he won his court case. Might be worthwhile to look a bit further…
  8. Glenda Gail Parker. Don’t know anything, beyond noticing that she’s a woman, but Darline can claim the same distinction. More in Ms. Parker’s favor: No prominent mention of Trump on her website. Interesting…
  9. Mark Lynch. A second Mark! Here’s his website. (No prominent mention of Trump!)
  10. Mark McBride. Yet another Mark! Here’s his website. Again, no obvious mention of Trump (mind you, I haven’t read every word on any of these sites), and his issues page mentions relatively normal things that a Republican in, say, the 1990s might have talked about. Fascinating.

I’m going to look more closely into those folks who show no interest in the current president. Some of them sort of exude an aura of sanity that is sadly unfamiliar these days. I’ll let you know if I decide to vote for any of them.

Of course, if there are any professional Republican consultants who have taken a moment to pay attention to any of those candidates who seem to be from a pre-Trump universe, they are snorting with derision and saying something like, “Huh! Another loser who wants to stay a loser!”

That’s their conventional “wisdom.” Me I’m looking forward to a day when they’re wrong. You know, a day when our country is Great Again.

3 thoughts on “This depressing special primary

  1. Douglas Ross

    I’ll vote for Sanford unenthusiastically but at least he doesn’t care what Trump thinks.. and if he ever was able to influence the Senate with an iota of libertarian principles, I’d be fine with that. We see what traditional Republican and Democrats get us when it comes to government: more, more, and even more while delivering less and less. Libertarians didn’t create a 35 trillion dollar deficit or a system of government programs that have allowed BILLIONS of dollars of fraud to occur.

    Darline Graham’s candidacy exists because Lindsey’s staff want to keep their jobs. She is unqualified, uninspiring, and will just be a puppet for Trump.

    Norman is too old. Enough said. We don’t need another geriatric career politician in Washington.

    Russell Fry jumps whenever Trump tells him to. He’s got a job already.

    The rest of them are just narcissists who think other people care what they think.

    Reply
    1. Brad Warthen Post author

      As I indicated, I might do the same as you. But I’m intrigued by some of those people toward the end, and one of them might be a good protest vote.

      Trouble is, I don’t have time to look into them enough to be confident about any of them.

      Also, over the years I’ve grown leery about protest votes. I’ve done two such votes in prominent contests in my voting career, in cases in which I as <em>sure</em> the person I was voting for would lose. I’ve mentioned them before. The dynamics of the two were similar:

      1. The first time I voted, in 1972, I stayed in the booth so long wrestling with what to do in the presidential contest that a pollworker asked if I was OK in there. I thought McGovern’s campaign was such a disaster that he’d be a dangerously unreliable commander-in-chief. Also, I was still ticked at him for dumping Eagleton. But I was certain Nixon was way more involved in Watergate than it looked at the time. So even though I thought that overall he was a more effective president, and I thought the nation would be better off if he won, I voted for McGovern just to wash my hands of responsibility for Nixon.
      2. In 1996, I thought Bob Dole was the better man, but he had run such a poor campaign that I felt he would not run the White House any better. So as disappointed as I was with Clinton, I thought that day-to-day, on most things, he was better at the job. But I was sure he would win by the end of the race, so I registered a protest about the stuff I didn’t like about him by voting for Dole.

      Neither of those votes did anyone any harm, but I won’t do that again in a presidential general election. No matter what the polls are saying, the country is so divided that anyone with a major-party nomination has a chance of winning.

      2016 taught us that. I don’t believe for a moment that all the people who voted for Trump actually wanted him to win. I think that loads of them were sure he would lose — it was still unimaginable, which is why so many real Republicans did all they could to stop him from getting their nomination. (Also, a lot of Democrats were cheering for him to win the nomination because they were SURE he would lose.) So, loads of Republicans, despising Hillary as much as Republicans do, but sure she would win, registered their protests. Millions of them — and Trump himself, I think — were shocked at the result.

      Since then, of course, the dynamics have changed radically. At that point, only about 30 percent of the electorate liked Trump — which was enough to win primaries, but not the general, if the Democrats had picked a less-despised nominee.

      But after the election, the otherwise normal Republicans (the kind who didn’t go to Trump rallies) started to get defensive about all the richly deserved criticism, outrage and mockery constantly by people who had not voted Republican. We had been in such a state of extreme partisanship for a decade or two at that point, so the GOP reacted by coming to think of Trump as their guy — even the Republicans who had once seen him as a joke. How dare all those other people trash their guy — and, by extension, them? Gradually, they became Trump fans, too.

      Now, this guy who wasn’t even even a Republican before this started has become the very embodiment of the party.

      But it wasn’t like that in November 2016. And that taught me to never cast another protest vote in a presidential election.

      Reply

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