The Emergence of Political Consciousness: A Week at Boys State, 1964

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I suspect that my true “political consciousness” began around the months surrounding mid-1963 to mid-1964 and for reasons you, my patient reader, I hope can understand and share. Can my awareness of what came across the airwaves and was broadcast in black and white on our family television be likened to an emerging “political consciousness?”

An Emerging Political Consciousness

I’ve been thinking this political season about my own political consciousness. I know it’s a state of mind based upon my awareness of politics and assumes I’ve developed a personal concept of my political identity.

I also own a concern with the lack of political prudence these days, which seems to have digressed into a blood sport, and “free speech” into a bludgeon.

Perhaps it’s always been that way with political passions fomented by faction and an odd understanding of free speech removed from common law.

I must have been at some time politically unconscious, which is a term coined by Frederic Jameson, with whom I have differences. His thesis is that political problems are not only consciously, but unconsciously, felt.

Which would seem a paradox until we read how Freud argued there are three levels of mind, one of which is an area of repressed feelings, memories, habits, and so on, but which play an important role in influencing behavior, including political behavior.

Maybe so.

Why, though, do I have such negative thoughts, if not anger, about the political square these days, and a belief that political behavior at large has become self-defeating, and that most “politicians” have compulsive behavior problems left over from childhood behavior problems?

Perhaps they’ve accessed too much of their unconscious mind, and the result is daily “screeds”… that sound we make when scraping our finger nails across a chalk board.

Self-interest seems to be the rule, and elected officials abuse their power and fail to respect the legitimate authority of other branches of government.

So, I took a test to determine my political inclinations. I scored libertarian, to which I say “go figure,” and I likely knew that inclination before taking the test. But I hesitate to pronounce my agreement with such a silly test because, though I share some attitudes with libertarians, I know in my heart I am much more a Kirkean Conservative.

What’s a Minnesota farm boy to do?

And so, “self-consciousness” refers to the idea of a being who happens to have become “self-aware” and thus “self-conscious.” That takes time, though new-born infants own a certain amount of consciousness such as an awareness of the body, and the world of whirligigs dangling above the crib. I’m beyond that at age 77, but it’s basic and as much a “birthing process” as birth itself.

If my dear mother were still with us I would make it a point to quiz her on this issue. Her dementia would have hindered some talk, but she did have memories from years ago.

From then, one should note, matters become more complicated since “consciousness” itself develops into a vigorous continual activity of mental time, which includes memory and with that one’s autobiographical story begins, warts included as regrets.

Regrets, I have a few; but then so do many others.

To be “politically conscious” is a bit more difficult since it implies a “charging” of self-consciousness, a sort of energized state of mind suggesting that one has been “awakened” to a political role in life, and thus as some have claimed an actual identity. One could add that with education comes the ability to analyze the political, social, and economic forces shaping society and one’s status in it. Perhaps the word should be “stature.”

Or so that group of enlightenment folk might argue, but about which I would ask, “Can one have too much enlightenment?”

The key phrase there is “the ability to analyze.”

And it leads to awkward questions from various and sundry including from prospective students: “So Dr. Sundahl, when did you become a conservative?”

Only to displace the question and hurry through the hors d’oeuvres line lest the deviled eggs be gone but then to answer, “The day I was first struck by lightning.”

But then, too, there’s the political issue of marginalized identities of which I am not one, I suspect, or more likely my identity as a Scandinavian is neither a reification of essential notions nor an oppressed identity.

There are Swedes who think differently and Norwegians, too, and perhaps the Danes, also, all very self-conscious folk and suffering many, many dark nights of the soul.

I recall my own venture into fiscal conservatism when I emptied my mother’s coffee can and began to fill it with my paper route earnings and burying the thing in a corner of the backyard and surrounding it with four or five gopher traps.

But that was more a negative economic differentiation and had nothing to do with an attitude toward colonialism, trade unionism, or cultural identity, or fear for an endangered planetary system, or whether Baptists are more likely to be saved than Lutherans.

The answer to that latter question seems to me perfectly clear.

A Week At Boys State 1964

Somewhat wryly, I suspect that my true “political consciousness” began around the months surrounding mid-1963 to mid-1964 and for reasons you, my patient reader, I hope can understand and share.

There’s a good deal of history played out on the television in 1963 and 1964 and following years which I watched. Kennedy was president until his death in November followed by Johnson and then Nixon. The “women’s” movement began. George Wallace became governor of Alabama and declared segregation today, segregation tomorrow, segregation forever. Martin Luther King was holding demonstrations until he also became dead as was the fate of Robert Kennedy, and Viet Nam was percolating which in hindsight is the beginning of Johnson’s “credibility gap.” Bible reading in public schools became unconstitutional. Zip Codes were shamelessly introduced to the consternation of elderly folk. Smoking was declared hazardous to one’s health. Some young men were publicly burning their draft cards. A 24th amendment was added to the United States Constitution banning poll taxes. There was no large discussion on abortion rights.

Not yet anyway.

Can my awareness of what came across the airwaves and was broadcast in black and white on our family television be likened to an emerging “political consciousness?” Given the fact that I was at age 16 on my way to age 17, is a watchful television news show the same as political activity? There was during that summer of 1964 some heated presidential activity as Johnson was en route to his own presidency, defeating Goldwater handily.

I was, on the other hand, proudly wearing a Goldwater button, but if asked to explain why would have fumbled my way along in debate, more so if I had been asked to explain my attitude toward civil rights or what was meant by The Great Society. The phrase “war on poverty” I could understand since in my small Minnesota town poor people were not abundant but lived in smallish homes not always tended with Norwegian fussiness.

What I do remember were television political advertisements including the one paid for by Johnson for President. A child plays in a field of flowers, happy and innocent. An atomic bomb detonates. The optics argued that Johnson would prevent such from ever happening but that Goldwater was a warmonger. Love peace, love Johnson.

For me it was my earliest experience with perception management which was a “process of influencing an individual’s thoughts and feelings about a brand” so that I could think or “emote.” Thus, no positive “emotes” for Goldwater; positive “emotes” for Johnson. If I were to add my “conscious” regard to the brand, well, my “political conscious perception” would be for Johnson and not Goldwater, albeit it may or may not reflect what is actually true.

Came then an invitation to attend, as a delegate, Boys State, a week in which to join a bunch other Minnesota boys to study the intricacies of government and governing. As a program, Boys State is understood to be among the most respected and selective educational programs of government instruction for United States high school students and would show that I was among the most passionate leaders, learners… nay citizens… in the country. And so I became a Minnesota Boys state delegate in May 1964, between junior and senior high school years. There was no such thing then as Girls State, which has been settled although these days still segregated. The purpose is to learn and become part of the operation of local, county, and state government, all under the rubric of learning the rights, privileges, and responsibilities of franchised citizens.

I should add the honor is extended when two out of the total number of state boys are chosen to participate in Boys Nation. Which as I was told is how one learns to meet important people and how to network. Those chosen would be the Governor and the Lieutenant Governor, cream of the Boys State crop.

But, as I think these days, I might have learned a little bit more about citizenship if there had been girls around.

So, then, the Minnesota Legislature had at that time 67 senators and 134 representatives. Voters elect one senator from each district and two representatives, one each from the two divided districts. My district is 21A and 21B, which means one senator and two representatives.

The nubbin, then, was that two “boys” from district 21A and 21B would attend Boys State. As one of the two I was automatically a representative for my half of my district and did not have to run for election.

And no senator, since to be a senator the qualifications began at 21 years of age, which meant no one at Boys State owned that qualification, which is not to suggest that things were “rigged.”

So, two boys by name—me, and Tim from over Worthington, MN wa—and filled with ambition. As a card-carrying introvert I was less so, much less so, and quite frankly was ambivalent about leaving home for a week and hanging out with no one I knew and sleeping in a strange bed in what I came to know is called a dormitory.

My mother and my father then drove me bright and early one Sunday to the campus of the University of Minnesota, where I would live in a dormitory along with 133 other representatives from across the state for a whole week. They were proud; I was less so.

Settled in then on that Sunday evening, Mr. Tim and I and all the others from that dormitory, only to board buses for an assembly on that evening to begin legislative work the next day. We were bused to the Minnesota Capitol building and ushered into the “House” of Representatives chamber, where we were shown to our seats, usually occupied by our district representatives. At each seat was a thick binder with our names, and inside the binder was a syllabus of sorts that outlined the work to be done that week. The Minnesota House at that time had 33 standing committees.

According to my binder I was assigned to two committees, one of which I quickly discovered was more important than the other: the Ethics Committee and the Ways and Means Committee.

So what?

Well, first of all it cut short some of the difficulties if everything had started from scratch. Usually a new legislative session begins when the “speaker” of the house is chosen from the majority and then the minority whip is also chosen. What follows is a process whereby members are assigned to committees and then who shall chair a committee and the rank of each member. It’s also done by party organization since each party is responsible for advancing a slate of nominees to fill open committee seats.

That’s all somehow accomplished in what is known as “real life.”

Since this was already done for us there was no wrangling which would have taken the entire week and likely with bloodshed.

Remembering for the moment that each party has a caucus and each party has a steering committee which aids in filling committee assignments. So, numerous committees including one called the “Committee on Committees.”

Alas, and I kid you not.

And it’s important to note that the speaker will ordinarily be sure to appoint more members to each committee from the speaker’s own party.  So, say such and such committee is composed of ten members, then, usually six from one party and four from the other.

Again, I kid you not.

Where I come from it’s called a “stacked deck.” But then again it depends upon whether politics is defined as the “art of compromise.”

But, to use a metaphor: if Boys State was the real thing, the process was more likely how to make one’s “bones,” which is an idiom meaning to establish achievement, status, respect for one’s “bona fides.”

As I remember, too, in the gathering that first night, it was the first time I ever heard the word, “wonk,” as in “policy wonk.”

Tim used it in describing himself as someone enthusiastic about the more minute details of policy or as I came to see him, boringly and terribly anxious to move to Washington, DC, where there are hives of “wonks” in abundance.

Back then to the dormitory briefly to look through my notebook and then me thinking sleep, which did not happen since the door was open and “wonks” in abundance were about and establishing their “bona fides” with copies of their resumes.

So, up and down the hallways came various and sundry who were canvassing to promote themselves for chairmanships by promoting their “platforms.” The night wore on tiredly as various members of my committee more politically ambitious than I came around to “converse,” to hold a “dialogue,” more so Ways and Means and less Ethics, the desired leadership membership between the two I quickly learned more “profound.”

And I quickly learned that the differences were political factional fissures since there were on the committee members led by someone who wished to be chairman, and if elected held the gavel but opposed by someone called the ranking member who wished to get hold of the gavel.

What were the issues upon which the factional fissures were subject to debate in Ways and Means?

Social security

Equitable taxation policy

National debt

Foreign aid

National defense

So, and in other words, Ways and Means had responsibility not only for raising the revenue to fund the government but also tax-writing policy, which meant legislation, which would lead to revenue raising measures, ear marks for a state budget for a coming fiscal year, balanced, too, maybe.

And guess what?

Ways and Means has been long regarded as the most prestigious committee of the House of Representatives. The “wonkish” members make “policy,” which was the reason I wasn’t getting any sleep that first long day and then into the long night, during which my factional visitors were promising me chairmanships of various other what they called lucrative sub-committees, including the committee that oversaw adoption programs and child-support programs, which was embedded in that catch phrase, social security.

Ways and Means would need a “policy” statement, which if elected would become a government mandate on how to go about funding adoption and child-support programs.

It did not seem to me to be a “hot potato” and could without much effort be “earmarked” with other Social Security issues… or so I thought.

And so by promising support to someone with gusto enough to run for the chairmanship I would become a member of a “party” which would define itself and its platform based upon its wonkish “policy” toward the issues.

I had to decide, however, which party would become my party and then I would need to decide why I agreed with said party.

I had a few hours to catch some sleep before breakfast and then off to my Ways and Means meeting in the morning, and then Ethics, and then later in the afternoon dinner and then my sub-committee meeting.

What I was only vaguely aware of was that this two-party system was an “either/or” debate between liberalism (vaguely defined) and conservatism (also vaguely defined). For some gut-check kind of reason, however, I was as a matter of faith more intimately in agreement with the latter.

Did I mention that I was my Aunt Luella’s favorite nephew?

Again, I kid you not….

So, in the course of events….

Day two, a Monday, early breakfast and then to a large lecture hall with “professionals,” wonkish speakers, who addressed topics like checks and balances, legislative processes, or how to create a new law that would eventually be introduced into the House of Representatives chamber after it had been researched and discussed in committee, where a rationale would be created why this bill should be passed in language like “whereas” and “therefore.”

And funding of course….

So again in the course of events….

After the morning session came the “breakout” sessions which included, first of all, my membership in the “Ethics” committee, a small one what with only five of us. Interestingly, the breakout session developed into a discussion on rules and administration under the rubric of ethical conduct.

Hmmmm…..

Why, I wondered, was such a thing necessary? For what end and purpose?

So the problem, then, was how to develop rules guiding ethical behavior which meant also defining what the committee believed was unethical behavior, which then turned on questions as to whether the behavior was simply unethical or was illegal according to criminal codes, or rather abuse of the public trust in such a manner as to bring discredit upon the institution.

But we were foundering and fomenting a rather large bunch of “stuff” but perhaps necessary before arriving at the simple state of affairs. And I was learning how easily what should be clear could become quickly convoluted.

What was really necessary was a precisely worded “commandment,” although without the phrase “Thou shalt not.”

And that was a short policy statement on transparency and normative behavior and an honors pledge not to bring dishonor to the institution and the representatives’ constituency.

I found it very interesting and for some reason congenial to my way of thinking. For example, should the ethics committee called into session find that such and such a representative was in violation of ethical behavior, would the committee have the “power” to call that representative to appear before the committee? And after defining what is meant by disorderly, i,e, unethical behavior, could the committee in a judicial manner bring the “perp” to a sort of trial by the whole chamber with the intent to expel the member by a two-thirds vote?

My point is that I found this little committee of five members loads of fun since the conversation led to such broadranging issues as to what constituted an alleged violation.

We did some research.

During the course of the week, then, we looked at various “real” complaints filed, some serious including one in which a representative was charged with a one count felony of sexual conduct in the first degree and two in the second degree, sexual contact with a person under 16.

Since this was hardly frivolous the committee simply deferred pending the completion of the criminal processes; in other words, with careful words, the committee had no sanctioned jurisdiction to prosecute felonies.

In another case study example a representative (who was a business man) was accused of pressuring a fellow businessman into giving campaign contributions by threatening to do business with a competitor. Here the committee had a procedure that included the business fellow publicly admitting on the house floor in open session his misconduct, then apologizing to the house, then his constituents and then his “victim” although we did not use that word and struggled for the right word although “citizen” seemed to suffice.

It was a good committee and in careful manner worked to insure transparency for the good of the House, its members, and the constituency of the various districts. The various case studies helped.

In truth I enjoyed the time spent.

The second and larger committee was as I mentioned Ways and Means at large but organized around subcommittees and then a few subcommittees to subcommittees. For example, I chaired a subcommittee under social security, the subcommittee on Child Welfare and Adoption. As it turned out, much of what we would work with was actually in its infancy and crossed bureaucratic boundaries.

Under what was called the department of Social Services, the newly enacted Family First Prevention Services Act created a system whereby a child protection system would by newly enacted law respond to allegations of mistreatment and abuse.

But by whom and under what kind of authority?

If a child needed to be removed from a family, the system provided financial aid for foster parent services which acted as a bridge between birth parents and a future time in which children could be returned safely home if possible.

It would depend upon the oversight of “someone” which was that “someone’s job” in the department of Social Services charged with making “judgments.

And then this: If a child could not be safely reunited with parents, the Act provided adoption services or legal transfer of a child to a relative.

All of this gave me some concern.

What was interesting, I might add, is the developing ways and means by which citizens of Indian reservation via the Indian Welfare Act would financially allow for training reservation judges, prosecutors, guardians and again law enforcement and which made portions of this committee’s activity unique to Minnesota with its northern and southern reservations.

What was developing here was the creation of a subcommittee within a subcommittee and then the committee at large. Minnesota, like other states, had “reservations” for Native Americans similar to other states but noting that these “tribal” designations were not all the same and even within a “tribal” designation there were cultural differences.

Thus as matters complicated one could perceive the beginnings of an enlarged Minnesota Bureau of Indian Affairs which would own a mission statement designed to enhance the quality of reservation life, promote economic opportunity, protect and import the economic assets provided there were any.

So, the subcommittee rationale was for education, for law enforcement and sociological educational teams engaging in case management and case review.

Call it the advent of “social work” but also creating policy based upon legislation which would in time become a bureaucracy, family and social services guidelines.

Part of the committee debate focused on whether such a bureaucracy might in time become more and more intrusive with ever widening ranges of public services under the guise of support and assistance but creating a welfare group of dependents who live their lives dependent upon the system rather than graduating into self-reliance.

And all under the authority of a “social worker.”

And it was here that I began to recognize the divide between conservatives and liberals and the distinction between social work as a vocation, such persons becoming child protection workers in multidisciplinary agencies with broad—very broad—oversight, functioning somehow between the governed and the governors. And by the latter I did not mean legislators, law-makers, but bureaucrats.

Those on the subcommittee who thought of themselves as liberal, or being on the left, believed in universal access to all kinds of social services and supported government intervention and regulation and no financial cuts to the social safety net. As for taxes, well, income proportional. Having said that, it was clear that this liberal outlook underscored one of the current major political factions and advocated social justice and creating the means by which government existed to reduce economic inequality.

Modern conservatism, on the other hand, held a belief in limited government while believing in national defense and law enforcement.

What was not present in this subcommittee debate was the issue of abortion, and for that I am today glad that such was still a decade away.

It was, on the other hand, and a large generalization, the enthusiasm for a type of governing in which the national and state government undertakes a key role in the protection and promotion of the well-being of its citizens: equality of opportunity, equitable distribution of wealth, public responsibility for those unable to avail themselves of the minimal provisions for a good life, mandated unemployment insurance, and welfare payments.

None of this on the surface is beyond reason but what if the government creates incentives whereby, say, an unemployed person received welfare payments and was not a struggling worker?

What I noted more and more was a certain kind of charged rhetoric in our subcommittee because the groundwork was one thing but at issue was whether the growth of this welfare state would replace services usually provided by private charities and the church and largely at the local level.

Would additions such as universal healthcare eventually lead to a system so unwieldy that it would become in time unworkable? What happens when the usual incentives for work vanish?

And so the rhetorical crunch and language in the subcommittee that evolved into a “screed.” It was tough sledding.

But the fact is that I was becoming politically conscious and because of those few days at Boys State was defining for myself a political sense of my own self. That is, I was discovering an awareness of politics, which at that time was also not an understanding of my true position in history. And it was not political science but political philosophy.

There was also something else at work in this subcommittee and that was my lack of understanding of political economy as it relates to government management of the economy, and which had something to do with how politics influences or creates power arrangements. Apparently there were capitalists who were exploitative and others called progressives who were not self-interested but interested in economic outcomes intended to cure inequality—a kind social welfare function.

Lines were drawn in this subcommittee, and it was apparent in the course of a couple of days that little could be had in the way of detente. But my position was becoming clear to me, more so when the language used by those who called themselves progressive often became tedious, if not at times like a rant, a screed. Since it was becoming equally obvious that my position was right of center, it became more clear to me when it was suggested that I needed therapy. And there were also self-conscious attempts to contain the thought of those, including me, a minority, who were quietly and prudently attempting to prove that the progressive agenda was categorically wrong.

There’s a book I would read a bit later by Hayek, The Road to Serfdom, an unimpeachable classic on the abuse of reason, or so I think these days. Had I the book at hand and if I also had the courage to respond prudently in measured language I would have used history as my guide. Heretical to those progressives but for Hayek the progressive idea of empowering government with increasing economic control would not lead to a utopia but lock-stock-and-barrel to a socialist program.

And since this was 1964, as a piece of history the time was congenial with Johnson’s The Great Society, and the War of Poverty having become front and center, what with social justice, equality, and security being current in the political discourse.

And it’s interesting to note that although the time was the early 1960s, there was already an ever-deepening malaise and disaffection, what with inefficiency and stagnation. Just around the corner the Vietnam War would became America’s War, and for Lyndon Johnson his “credibility gap” was about to take center stage in American life.

Well, the week wore on, and my problems with Ways and Means also wore on, but I was grateful for the time spent on the Ethics Committee. There was with the work of that committee a good sense of satisfaction.

The last day or so, Friday and into Saturday, were large meetings with the entire Boys State in “session.” The purpose was to hear committee reports, vote on bits and pieces of legislation but also to nominate and vote on the persons who would become the elected governor and lieutenant governor. And down and along a largish slate of other elected positions.

I was already one of the two representatives from my district, which was eventually a line item on my resume. But I was not really running for an office but found myself somehow elected to be the mayor of Austin, Minnesota, which is a nice town with a lovely lake.

So, then, Saturday afternoon late, the Boys State session concluded, and we were dismissed. A good many who were from the Minneapolis/St Paul area went home. Tim and I had to wait until Sunday when our parents would come to collect us.

We decided to wander around.

It was a comfortable evening as we found ourselves in what is known as Dinkey Town, a sort of square block area close to campus.

There were girls about, and others.

And music, folk sort of stuff.

The door to the Triangle Bar was open, and there was this gangly feller playing a six-string and a twelve-string but not at the same time. His singing was about lost love and innocence lost and songs about moving on, words lovingly caressed if not understated.

Then he took a break and walked around a bit and shook some hands and came to where Tim and I were standing. We shook hands.

And that concluded my time at Boys State and the night I met the son of Abram Zimmerman.

From a memoir in progress, “The Man Who Wore A Tea Cup On His Head.”

The author would like to thank his former student, Cabie Lamb, for editing this essay. Miss Lamb is a graduate student at the University of Dallas, pursuing a degree in Humanities. She received her undergraduate degree in Liberal Arts from Hillsdale College and is an advocate for the revival of Classical Liberal Arts in K12 education.

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