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Tale of two chads

B. S. Raghavan

THE protracted imbroglio over the swinging electoral fortunes of the two Presidential candidates in the US has contributed to human edification at least in one respect: It has added a new word -- chad -- to political vocabulary and shown how for want of a chad, White House itself can be lost. So, what is chad?

Chad is the small circle-shaped bit thrown up by a sheet of paper when it is punched. Nobody ever gives it a thought. But in Florida, which is proving to be the final and decisive battleground in the war between Bush and Gore for Presidentship, the tiny chad has taken titanic proportions. The reason will be dismissed as being comical but for its portentous implications for the future health of democracy: Strangely, the voters of the US, despite living in a country at the top rung of technology and wired and virtual in every respect, still follow the ancient manual method of punching the ballot papers against the names of candidates printed on them.

Many of them apparently make such a poor job of it that the paper is not punched through properly leaving a clear hole against the name they vote for. When the paper is not fully punched, it leaves bits of chad hanging or still clinging to the ballot pap er; sometimes there is only a bulge where the paper had been pressed but not firmly punched. All these vagaries have given rise to varied descriptions of chad as dimpled, pregnant and dangling. One of the issues for judicial determination has been whethe r ballot papers showing these types of chad should also be taken into account in tabulating the results. So far as is known, the decision is that while dangling chads are dandy, pregnant ones are repugnant and dimpled ones should be dumped.

Now, suddenly, an ironical twist has been given to the story by the discovery that there lived in 7th century England, a cleric named Chad. He was appointed the Bishop of York when it was found that the one originally selected was away in France for an i ndefinite period. Eventually he did return, and poor Bishop Chad was summarily asked to step down. In a conspicuous manifestation of extreme humility, he instantly did so (without going to court!) stating ``that he had never thought himself worthy of tha t position, that he took it through obedience and that he would surrender it through obedience''. He died of plague in 672 A.D. in his 52nd year, and was made a saint for his spirit of renunciation as well as for the many good deeds he performed.

So far, so good: Nothing for Gore or Bush to worry about. But where the story of St. Chad takes a turn for the worse for both of them is in the following prayer celebrating his sainthood:

``Almighty God, whose servant Chad, for the peace of the Church, relinquished cheerfully the honours that had been thrust upon him, only to be rewarded with equal responsibility. Keep us, we pray, from thinking more highly of ourselves than we ought to t hink, and ready at all times to step aside for others''!

The sting at the end of the prayer makes poor Al and George victims of double jeopardy: One from the ballot paper chad and the other from St. Chad. Who will not pity them?