It’s politics as usual during unusual times, as glossy campaign mailers overflow in my mailbox with early voting underway. They arrive printed on heavy cardstock, promising revelations. I’m decorating my refrigerator with them like they’re holiday cards, but I’m running out of magnets. At this point, the campaign for the congressional district that covers part of the northwest suburbs and the North Shore and a corner of Chicago is taking up a lot of space.
A mailer from Friends of Daniel Biss reads, “Say NO to AIPAC and Trump/MAGA donors. Say NO to Laura Fine.” Some voters may actually like her unconditional support of Israel.
Elect Chicago Women, reported to be funded by the American Israel Public Affairs Committee, or AIPAC, states, “Daniel Biss broke his promise to serve his full term as mayor by announcing his run for Congress.” How was he supposed to anticipate U.S. Rep. Jan Schakowsky’s retirement? What precisely is wrong with ambition?
A mailer focused on my state Senate district, in support of candidate Rachel Ruttenberg, accuses her opponent Patrick Hanley of being a former management consultant and living in Winnetka.
I’m still trying to decide which part is meant to scare me.
Campaign professionals would say the mailers are working exactly as designed. Negative campaign literature has long been part of the political playbook. Consultants argue that defining an opponent through past legislative actions can sharpen contrasts and motivate voters.
But the moment we’re living through is anything but ordinary.
Our democracy feels fragile. As President Donald Trump asserts himself anew, concerns about preserving democracy are growing — from aggressive immigration crackdowns that test legal boundaries to a Congress that appears paralyzed. Even now, Trump’s rhetoric remains centered on the “stolen” 2020 election and grievances about Joe Biden. The red-blue divide is already wide enough. Do we really need to foster division inside a party that is trying to rebuild a governing majority?
For years, Democrats have warned about the corrosive effects of scorched-earth politics. That warning rings hollow if the same tactics appear in their own primaries.
Democrats cannot fight Trump-style politics in Washington while practicing similar tactics at home. Their credibility depends on how they conduct their own campaigns.
When national politics grow unstable, voters look to governors, state legislators and local officials for calm and competence. State governments now carry an outsize responsibility to demonstrate that government still works.
In Texas, James Talarico is running a different kind of campaign. This week, the state lawmaker defeated U.S. Rep. Jasmine Crockett in the Democratic primary for U.S. Senate. Instead of stoking outrage, he talks openly about faith and Scripture, asking less “gotcha” questions and more “who are we serving?” At a moment when anger fuels in Democratic politics, he’s betting that decency still wins votes.
If campaigns in Wilmette, Evanston and Glenview mirror the same suspicion and character attacks that Democrats criticize nationally, we reinforce the very political culture we claim to oppose.
The stack in my mailbox suggests where we’re already drifting.
I’ve been following the campaigns closely, reading candidates’ statements and social media posts. But most voters are not political obsessives. They sort their mail between bills and real estate flyers, glancing at a headline between carpools. Many will realize there is a primary only weeks before Election Day. And instead of learning in depth what each candidate hopes to accomplish, they are invited to view the others with suspicion: too connected to donors, too ambitious and living in the wrong ZIP code.
Yet these candidates agree on far more than the mailers suggest. They are Democrats who support reproductive rights, public education, environmental protection and a more equitable economy. The real differences — how aggressively to pursue zoning reform along the North Shore, how to expand pre-K access in Evanston and Skokie, and how to prioritize commuter rail funding — are worth debating. Those are the distinctions a primary is actually for.
But there is a difference between making the case for your candidacy and defining your opponent through insinuation.
Negative mail may move voters a few points, sometimes enough to matter, but it reliably deepens cynicism and punishes the nominee who will need those same voters in November or when they take office. Distrust is a costly closing message when the winner has to govern with the people they just defeated.
My refrigerator will probably keep collecting campaign mailers between now and Election Day. I just hope the next one earns its place there — not by warning me about someone else, but by telling me what the candidate actually intends to build.
Dr. Jennifer Obel is a retired oncologist who writes about the intersection of medicine, ethics and public policy.
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