23 years ago I was introduced to a successful Arizona politician by a Native American leader in a lunchtime cafeteria. The first words out of the politico’s mouth were a stream of profanity ending with a loud “…and so FU-K you! He said Pima County Interfaith Council (PCIC) for which I was working at the time hadn’t paid him the proper obeisance.
The Native American leader, accustomed to kind words and solicitous mutual pandering, nearly fell backwards over a chair, literally blown away by the exchange. Ashen faced, on the way out of the place, he asked with fear and trembling: What was that all about? I was chuckling out loud. Reminds me of ward committeemen in Chicago I said.
What?
I kind of like him.
You what?
I kind of like him.
I got to go he said glancing around in the parking lot before hurrying off.
That was the last time I saw him.
The politico, as it turned out, became a long time collaborator with PCIC and a regular, blunt, self-interested truth teller. I concluded from our first meeting the message was: “I’m attacking you because the truth is I think you’re on to something that may be useful to me down the road.”
I looked forward to conversations with him, the jousting, the posturing, the lessons in how the intricacies of AZ politics worked. One day, at his favorite breakfast spot, he said, “All politics is deception.”
I added to myself: “All organizing is decoding.”
After many years of often tense negotiations and several big PCIC wins in part engineered by the same politico (on workforce development, youth infrastructure, adult education, children’s programs) I developed genuine affection for his prickly ways. Never buddy, buddy. Always with an angle. Always contentious. Always smart. Always on guard.
The Native American leader, accustomed to kind words and solicitous mutual pandering, nearly fell backwards over a chair, literally blown away by the exchange. Ashen faced, on the way out of the place, he asked with fear and trembling: What was that all about? I was chuckling out loud. Reminds me of ward committeemen in Chicago I said.
What?
I kind of like him.
You what?
I kind of like him.
I got to go he said glancing around in the parking lot before hurrying off.
That was the last time I saw him.
The politico, as it turned out, became a long time collaborator with PCIC and a regular, blunt, self-interested truth teller. I concluded from our first meeting the message was: “I’m attacking you because the truth is I think you’re on to something that may be useful to me down the road.”
I looked forward to conversations with him, the jousting, the posturing, the lessons in how the intricacies of AZ politics worked. One day, at his favorite breakfast spot, he said, “All politics is deception.”
I added to myself: “All organizing is decoding.”
After many years of often tense negotiations and several big PCIC wins in part engineered by the same politico (on workforce development, youth infrastructure, adult education, children’s programs) I developed genuine affection for his prickly ways. Never buddy, buddy. Always with an angle. Always contentious. Always smart. Always on guard.