Ted Kennedy's death. Scott Brown's pickup truck. Elizabeth Warren's heritage. John Kerry's promotion to secretary of state. It's been a tumultuous few years in Massachusetts politics, and it's not over yet. On Tuesday, Bay Staters will vote in the primary for the state's second special election for U.S. Senate in four years. On the Democratic side, two veteran congressmen are competing for the nomination: in the progressive corner, energy and telecommunications maven Ed Markey; in the moderate corner, pro-life and pro-union Stephen Lynch. Given the state's deep blue tint, one of them will likely cruise to the Senate in the June 25 general election. But which one?
For months, there's been an aura of inevitability around Markey, who was anointed the establishment favorite in December when Kerry, the Democratic Senatorial Campaign Committee, and Vicki Kennedy all endorsed him on the same day (DSCC Chair Michael Bennet, a Colorado senator, is the brother of Atlantic Editor in Chief James Bennet). From the moment Lynch entered the race in January, he's been the insurgent, the underdog, and, for many, the hopeless conservative.
The expectations seem to spring from a national assumption that, in Massachusetts, the most liberal candidate always wins. To believe that is to misunderstand the state. Massachusetts is not monolithically liberal; it has regional idiosyncrasies, like anywhere else, along with a surprisingly strong independent streak. In other words, it has plenty of voters who might be inclined to support a Stephen Lynch. Indeed, a closer look at the political landscape suggests Lynch has better odds on Tuesday than you might think. (Disclosure: I previously worked for Cence Cincotti Strategies, which is now advising the Lynch campaign.)
Look no further than the state's voter-registration statistics to debunk the myth that Bay Staters are in lockstep with the Democratic establishment. While Republicans remain even scarcer (11 percent), Democrats constitute only 36 percent of registered voters. A majority of voters in Massachusetts (53 percent) are unaffiliated with either party -- and the state's open-primary system means they too can vote on Tuesday. That's a plus for Lynch, as a recent poll found him leading 41 percent to 35 percent among unaffiliated voters planning to pull a Democratic ballot.
The Lynch campaign is optimistic its candidate resonates enough with independents to get them to the polls. "Unenrolled voters in Massachusetts are more likely to vote in Democratic primaries than in Republican primaries," says a spokesman. "You've just got to give them a reason to vote. Our guy has done that repeatedly."
In Massachusetts, those reasons for voting can be very different depending on whom you ask--even among voters of the same party. In fact, Massachusetts may have starker differences among Democratic voters -- on policy preferences, personal motivations, and socioeconomic status -- than anywhere else. A tour of the state reveals how many factions the state's Democratic coalition truly comprises.
Stereotypical progressives are certainly a big part of Massachusetts. They include GLBT activists in Provincetown on Cape Cod, young idealists in Cambridge and Boston, artists in the bohemian Berkshires, and intellectuals in the college towns of Amherst and Northampton in the Pioneer Valley. This progressive voting bloc bleeds into the more pragmatic vote of Boston's western suburbs and the North Shore. Wellesley (professors) and Newburyport (art gallerists), for instance, house intellectuals who double as affluent Yankees, a demographic that better describes these areas on the whole. These are the socially liberal, fiscally conservative voters who were key to moderate Republicans' sometime success in Massachusetts but now often pull the lever for Democrats.
But equally significant elements of the state's Democratic coalition are socially conservative, fiscally liberal voters -- like Stephen Lynch. These populists tend to be the working-class residents of Massachusetts's many secondary urban areas, such as Worcester, Springfield, Brockton, and Lynn. They are also the state's most diverse bloc of voters, encompassing Hispanic communities in Lawrence, Chelsea, and Holyoke and Asian enclaves in Quincy and Lowell. But they also include less recent immigrants like the Irish of South Boston, the Italians of Everett, and the Portuguese of Fall River and New Bedford. The one thing these voters have in common? They are predominantly Roman Catholic. Overall, Massachusetts is the most Catholic state in the country (45 percent of the population).