Flashes of Panic

You hear a lot of bold declarations and opinions stated as fact in an election season. It’s tempting and easy to assume that just because you see something as self-evident, everyone else will agree with you; this can lead, however, to a fair amount of frustration when you find that they don’t.

I’m not one for arguing over these things. Sometimes I will quietly vent some steam through my ears or shout at the car radio when I hear a candidate saying things I disagree with, but for the most part I form my own opinions and let others form theirs. It’s not a kind of friction I like.

Still, there’s one idea I’ve heard a few times this time around that I really do think is so outright wrong-headed that I need to say something. It’s expressed two ways, but boils down to the same turning point. That’s the concept of a “wasted vote” or a vote that “doesn’t matter.”

The “wasted vote” idea is heard a lot about “third-” or minor-party candidates. Why bother voting, the idea goes, when you’re voting for someone who doesn’t have a chance to win? After the last election, the idea gathered a lot more steam when a minor-party candidate drew a lot of votes—enough, in fact, that had they voted instead for one of the two major-party candidates, they might have turned the entire national election the other way.

I’m sorry, that’s just backwards. Those votes weren’t wasted. I’d say every individual who cast one of those votes spoke louder than any of the millions who voted for the other two. Politics isn’t binary, despite our desperate attempts to make it so, and a significant minority of my fellow citizens told us, four years ago, that our system was broken if such a small minority could throw it off the rails simply by speaking their minds. I’m disappointed that instead of creating some momentum for fixing it, we’ve simply told that minority to shut up and join the rest of us in our black and white world. The solutions are easy enough: refining and streamlining the electoral college. An end to gerrymandered congressional districts designed to make 90% of the country “safe” for one party or the other. And something like instant runoff voting that lets every voter cast one vote—but also provide a hierarchy of candidates they’d “settle” for if their favorite has no hope of a majority. If we can’t vote for a candidate who reflects our opinions and priorities for fear of “wasting” a vote, the system needs fixing.

The next part is near and dear to my heart here in Massachusetts. We’ve enjoyed a relative lack of signs, campaign speeches, and, I suppose, television advertising (though everyone is free to avoid television ads the way I do: turn it off!) We’re one of those “safe” states. The problem with this is when we assume that the outcome is a foregone conclusion (and I’ll admit it probably is,) we don’t get as motivated to go out and actually vote. Hey, it doesn’t matter—we know which way this state will go, right?

Wrong. It does matter. Not because we’re about to become a swing state; I think the pollsters would have caught that by now. But because politicians are always campaigning to the demographics of the last election, and, to a limited degree, the issues of it as well. I want them to see people my age out voting, no matter who for; in fact, I’d rather we show up and put a blank ballot in the box than not vote at all. If we show that we’re there, they might start listening to us. Maybe for once the baby boomers will let us get a demographic word in edgewise, before they finish wrecking everything.

There’s a guy on a listserv I’ve been on for years who will freely imply his political opinions at the drop of a hat, but loudly insists (about every two years) that he doesn’t vote. See, he’s a recovering alcoholic, and his assertion is that since he proved (to himself) that he can’t be trusted to take care of himself, now he’s given over all responsibility—including politics—to his Higher Power. It infuriates me every time I read it, because I suspect that behind the sanctimoniousness is plain laziness, and the effect isn’t “the removal of one irresponsible vote,” but the silencing of one voice. What if his higher power is giving him the chance to change the world with a vote? He’d never know.

The campaign season gives us an illusion that everything ends at election day. It doesn’t; it begins then. If you don’t vote next Tuesday, you’re invisible for the next four years.

It doesn’t matter what you think for that time; you don’t vote, so politicians don’t listen to you. They tune their policies to appeal to people who vote, or at least people they think will vote.

It’s too late to register here in Massachusetts, but some states (including the great state of Maine) will register voters up to election day. (I believe I first registered for a gubernatorial primary in Maine, and voted on the same day.) Show up. Check a few boxes, or leave them blank if you don’t like the choices. (Imagine how fast a restaurant’s menu would change if over half the people seated looked at the menu, then got up and left without ordering!) Is there something about the process that’s made you lose the motivation to vote? Not voting is sitting in the corner and sulking. Voting is saying you want it fixed.

OK, sermon’s over. You can uncover your eyes now. I can’t promise that I won’t be political again before the election, but I probably won’t be quite this strident again unless I’m talking about spammers, phishers, crackers or phreaks. Or the Continuing Education division.

Now playing: Getting Away With It (All Messed Up) from Pleased to Meet You by James