To host a town hall, or not to host a town hall?

Right now, the “do not host” camp is teeming with Republicans in leadership roles. The message from the top is that the town hall meeting’s risk of danger to delegates outweighs any of its potential benefits.

This official discouragement has to have put a lot of elected officials at ease. Even without the contemporary threat of danger or disorder, the decision to stay away is one that many politicians have made and stuck to for successive years.

This year, for a host of reasons I will not attempt to summarize here, the cries for meetings with U.S. House and Senate representatives — and for those meetings to be conducted locally, at public meeting places — are getting rather loud.

Certainly, they were loud enough for 1st Congressional District Rep. Chellie Pingree to host a pair of town halls in Maine, back to back, last Sunday and Monday nights.

You can choose to be cynical about Rep. Pingree’s decision to host meetings in Rockport and Westbrook, two pockets of our state that might be said to be more politically hospitable to her than others. Under the circumstances, and in light of the biting dearth of these meetings taking place here at a time they are both needed and being requested, I’d prefer not to be.

You can choose to defend those Republican representatives whose blood is being bayed for and point out that it’s easier to host a town hall as a Democrat today; indeed, that this form of voter engagement is fast becoming an element of the party’s (yet emerging) comeback strategy nationally. Fine. The fact remains that not every elected Democrat is willing to make themselves accountable in this way.

There’s an enormous difference between fear of physical danger, against which a variety of effective forms of protection are available, and a fear of embarrassment. In a dispiriting sign of the times, the rudimentary town hall “code of conduct” on prominent display for those in attendance at Westbrook Middle School last Monday night — calling for civility and respect — was not a world away from the list of school bus rules for pupils posted in the entryway.

In the end, their enforcement was limited to a single disturbance. The 90-minute event, which opened with a designed-to-rouse video montage set over Buffalo Springfield’s “For What It’s Worth,” felt closer to a productive group therapy session than it did a tense public meeting.

Even so — or, more likely, as a direct result of this interpersonal dynamic — the stakes seemed very high.

Pingree was welcomed with a standing ovation during which only a handful of those few hundred people present remained seated. Such was the palpable relief, such was the appetite for a night with the congresswoman. It helps that Pingree — who was dependably sharp and off-the-cuff — is better at this sort of thing than most. She knows when to be dry and laconic, knows just when to be sincere.

And the audience rewarded her for it. There were repeated expressions of gratitude and there was pantomime-style booing in response to certain names, certain news. Cheers went up as Rep. Pingree professed her sustained belief in the power of legislating and litigating against the overreach of the Trump administration. Knowing her very politically engaged audience, she also devoted a few moments to her belief in the power of “agitating,” writing letters, standing on street corners and talking to neighbors.

After nine minutes of preamble (commendably spare), questioning commenced. The range and depth of concerns brought by each person who approached the microphones rapidly became apparent. They covered the environment, education, immigration, schooling, discrimination on the basis of sex, the mounting disillusionment felt by young people and the very bad shape the Democratic Party is in. Pingree mostly did what she came to do: she listened.

The frequency with which the crowd applauded approached levels generally only endured during the annual State of the Union address. If those assembled realized it was an impediment to getting through a greater number of questions, they simply weren’t willing to make the trade.

At about 7:30 p.m., the last voice of the evening came quavering over the speakers. Despite doing everything in her power since January to make sense of the administration’s actions, the speaker told the room, she “ended up depressed, confused, terrified … sometimes joyous, every now and then.” In response to this allowance, Rep. Pingree offered a smile.

“I just want you to know that it is so important that you are here,” the woman continued, “and you are empathetic, and you are relating to us. Because … you just don’t know what’s going on in Congress. Even though I read … it seems so far away. It’s so important that you are here and I really, really thank you.”

She segued into a question about the rule of law and expressed astonishment at President Trump’s obsequious supporters. “What’s their problem?” the woman demanded, an unexpected flash of impatience that drew knowing laughter from the crowd. Before Rep. Pingree began her answer which, when it came, was both personable and assertive, the constituent in the turquoise sweater was sure to thank her again, “with all my heart.”

The audience broke into yet more applause.