Skip to content
Search

Latest Stories

Top Stories

What one artist has learned while trying to teach about the Electoral College

performance artist Pegi Christiansen

Pegi Christiansen often performs in her purple suffragist outfit.

Courtesy Pegi Christiansen
Christiansen is a performance artist and freelance writer in Milwaukee.
"Without the Electoral College, California and New York will decide who's president."

Though this assertion is incorrect, it is the objection I have heard the most since last September. That's when I started presenting a five-minute "Is This Fair?" performance art piece, urging people in my state to press lawmakers in Madison to enact what's called "the national popular vote" legislation.

The bill has not gone beyond a hearing in the GOP-majority Legislature so far. But if passed, Wisconsin could become the first presidential battleground to pledge its electoral votes (10 of them) to the winner of the nationwide popular vote instead of the statewide popular vote — just as soon as states with an additional 260 electoral votes have done likewise.

Then, their collective commitments would guarantee the national popular vote winner and Electoral College winner are the same, which of course did not happen in either 2016 or 2000. (So far, 16 states and Washington, D.C., with a combined 196 electoral votes, have joined this National Popular Vote Interstate Compact.)

I have made 150 presentations to 500 people in more than 30 places. Since the coronavirus outbreak, I have been performing mainly outdoors, with a purple face mask part of my purple suffragist outfit.

This isn't my first nonpartisan voting project. I co-produced 11 performances across Milwaukee on Election Day 2008 that used music, dance, video, recorded sound, puppetry, interactive sculpture and poetry to celebrate and encouraged conversations about citizenship and voting.

"True democracy is a project that's much bigger than any one of us," Barack Obama said in his final speech as president, in January of 2017. "It's bigger than any one person, any one president, and any one government. It's a job for all of us."

That's when I realized I must do another nonpartisan voting project in 2020. But now I am 66 and don't have my former stamina, so the project needed to be flexible and fit between times with my two young grandsons. But it also needed to be in the flesh, not online, as Timothy Snyder encouraged when he wrote: "Practice corporeal politics. Power wants your body softening in your chair and your emotions dissipating on the screen. Get outside. Put your body in unfamiliar places with unfamiliar people."

The first performance to a large group was last October, on the same day as the funeral for the venerable Baltimore congressman Elijah Cummings. "When we're dancing with the angels, the question will be asked: In 2019, what did we do to make sure we kept our democracy intact?" he said a few months before he died. "Did we stand on the sidelines and say nothing?"

When my nerves won't settle down, I think of that. But the presentations have not gotten easier, even though the average audience is only two people.

What have I experienced? Let's start with the worst.

On a gorgeous January day, I was at a carnival in a sculpture garden and park. Since most were there to look at the art, I expected many would dismiss me. Then I approached a couple on a bench by a fire pit. People often interrupt with questions or comments, which is great. It means people are engaged.

"You don't know anything about the Electoral College," the husband said. "Democrats are allowing immigrants into the country to get their votes." I tried to answer but he only wanted to bully me and I soon gave up. "Why don't you do something positive and do some volunteer work?" he yelled as I walked off.

For the rest of my life I will remember an obdurate woman at a farmers market in suburban Milwaukee. She was one of the many who claimed, "Without the Electoral College, New York and California will choose the president." I countered, "There are 4 million Republicans in California whose votes aren't worth anything." She laughed and insisted, "There aren't any Republicans in California." Instead of noting that a Republican had just won a special House election in suburban Los Angeles, I offered that "there are an equal number of urban and rural voters in the country." In a hushed voice she responded, "Those urban voters are all Black."

In June, I started driving to conservative areas in the southeastern part of the state. I worried people might rip off my mask or call the police. Nope. It has been gratifying that no matter where I go, half the people I approach will listen and take my card explaining the campaign. This fits my view of Wisconsinites. We believe in being fair.

Every person who watches has learned something new, except one political science professor. He instructed me to become an elector. In one case, a young woman didn't know what the Electoral College was. In another, a young man supposed the Electoral College went into effect recently.

This spring I read an article advising young journalists how to talk to different types of people. With "aggressive" adults, it recommended asking questions. Now I always ask questions instead of countering arguments. Rather than challenging people who say, "What was good enough for the Founding Fathers should be good enough for us," I ask, "Did you know that as political parties emerged Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, and Alexander Hamilton all feared the direction the Electoral College was heading and suggested changes?" This at least raises people's eyebrows and sometimes leads to further discussion.

And I believe I had heavenly help on July 16. That was my mother's birthday. She died in early 2017 but might have stayed on earth a few months longer — except Hillary Clinton's Electoral College loss to Donald Trump crushed her. Arriving at the same farmers market where the woman had whispered about Black voters, I asked for mom's aid. He delivered. Every person I approached was positive. Three sets of people thanked me for what I am doing.

Maybe, just maybe, with my mom's support, Wisconsin will pass the national popular vote bill.

Read More

Celebrating Congressional Excellence: Democracy Awards 2025
United States Capitol in Washington, D.C.

Celebrating Congressional Excellence: Democracy Awards 2025

In a moment of bipartisan celebration, the Congressional Management Foundation (CMF) will honor the winners of its 2025 Democracy Awards, spotlighting congressional offices that exemplify outstanding public service, operational excellence, and innovation in governance.

The ceremony, scheduled for this Thursday, September 18, 2025, in Washington, D.C., will recognize both Republican and Democratic offices across multiple categories, reinforcing the idea that excellence in Congress transcends party lines.

Keep ReadingShow less
Political Assassinations Are Part of the “Constitutional Rot” That Afflicts America
Gen Z and the Dangerous Allure of Political Violence
Gen Z and the Dangerous Allure of Political Violence

Political Assassinations Are Part of the “Constitutional Rot” That Afflicts America

Americans are learning that democracy is a fragile thing. If it is taken for granted, it can wither almost imperceptibly.

Signs of that withering are everywhere. I won’t rehearse them here.

Keep ReadingShow less
Meacham: Political Violence in America Linked to Deep Questions of Identity and Inclusion

"Who is an American? Who deserves to be included in ‘We the people" - Jon Meacham

AI generated illustration

Meacham: Political Violence in America Linked to Deep Questions of Identity and Inclusion

In a sobering segment aired on CBS Sunday Morning, Pulitzer Prize-winning historian Jon Meacham addressed the escalating wave of political violence in the United States and its implications for the future of American democracy. Speaking with journalist Robert Costa, Meacham reflected on the recent assassination of conservative activist Charlie Kirk and a string of violent incidents targeting political figures and institutions.

"We do not want to be in a place where, because you disagree with someone, you pick up a gun. That is not what the country can be. And if it is, then it's something different. It's not the America we want," he said.

Keep ReadingShow less
Two speech bubbles overlapping each other.

Political outrage is rising—but dismissing the other side’s anger deepens division. Learn why taking outrage seriously can bridge America’s partisan divide.

Getty Images, Richard Drury

Taking Outrage Seriously: Understanding the Moral Signals Behind Political Anger

Over the last several weeks, the Trump administration has deployed the National Guard to the nation’s capital to crack down on crime. While those on the right have long been aghast by rioting and disorder in our cities, pressing for greater military intervention to curtail it, progressive residents of D.C. have tirelessly protested the recent militarization of the city.

This recent flashpoint is a microcosm of the reciprocal outrage at the heart of contemporary American public life. From social media posts to street protests to everyday conversations about "the other side," we're witnessing unprecedented levels of political outrage. And as polarization has increased, we’ve stopped even considering the other political party’s concerns, responding instead with amusement and delight. Schadenfreude, or pleasure at someone else’s pain, is now more common than solidarity or empathy across party lines.

Keep ReadingShow less