I watched Colin Powell’s endorsement of Barack Obama with rapt attention yesterday. In terms of rationale, he essentially echoed the Christopher Hitchens approach, emphasizing Obama’s strengths of character, temperament, and personality and trusting that those strengths would be with him during a White House tenure. He also spoke my own mind in saying that one of the biggest marks against McCain is his selection of running mate. 

But the most salient feature of Powell’s appearance on “Meet the Press” was the way in which he–perhaps unwittingly–made a case for the undecided voter. 

For months, Powell said, he was among that large number of Americans who were scrutinizing the two candidates as two viable options for the presidency. Neither is completely unfit for the office, said Powell. And in my living room, all the people said Amen.  

Undecideds are always the subject of much discussion, but they are as vilified in the media as they are sought after by the campaigns. Earlier this year, Stanley Fish wrote a mini-essay against independent voters in The New York Times, arguing that people like me who don’t belong to a political party are in an “unnatural position” and cannot be said to believe in anything. Cable news talking heads express constant frustration at undecideds (tho their jobs partly depend on the existence of the ambivalent). “The Daily Show” writers have targeted undecideds a lot–hilariously so at times, but last week’s skit about undecideds struck me as unfunny because it depended on the belief that there are huge swaths of difference between the platforms of McCain and Obama.

Of course there are differences. On some issues more than others. But undecideds are not people who can’t see those differences. We are people who don’t believe we’ve seen empirical, undeniable evidence that one side is basically right, and the other basically wrong on some of the most central issues–and we know that stated differences do not always amount to governance differences. To that extent, we’re no different from lots of voters in both political parties who have negotiated their way into support of their party even as they acknowledge the problems with their party, and the strengths of the other. We’re people who feel unrepresented by either party, because our combination of political commitments and our wish-list for changes in government don’t match up with the platforms on offer. 

My spine is weak enough that I’m often unsettled by the critiques of undecideds. Stanley Fish’s article made my wheels spin for several weeks (but he is, of course, Stanley Fish). I have conviction about plenty, and I have core beliefs that give shape and balance to my life. But the American political system is a morass of confusion. By the time you’re running for executive office, you’ve inevitably made compromises and partnerships that will haunt you later. To get your message out, you have to resort to polarizing rhetoric that is not even an accurate reflection of your own position, much less your opponent’s. Given this situation, how, exactly, are voters supposed to be absolutely certain of their vote?

On voting day of the last two presidential elections, just before entering the booth at my polling place, I’ve pulled a coin out of my pocket, and flipped it into the air. I’ll do the same this year–even tho I know which candidate I’m voting for this time. Here in Colorado, things are too close to allow a coin flip to determine my vote. But the coin flip is the best reflection of my views.