THERE has been much talk, among citizens, students and even on the pages of this newspaper, that voting is a useless exercise. The system is broken, they say, so why endorse it if your voice in it is so insignificant? Perhaps people take their right to vote for granted, thinking it's one that will be with them forever. It's not.
Despite the long struggle to extend the right to vote to every American, this right is brought to an end with one's last breath, creating the sole remaining disenfranchised demographic: the deceased.
Why is that so? After all, a pulse is not a requirement to be elected to office: just ask Mel Carnahan, the man who posthumously defeated John Ashcroft for a Senate seat in 2000. Why, then, can someone win an election but not vote for himself in that election?
The answer, as it so often does, lies in an awkward metaphor. The "system," our system of government, is a "living" system, requiring the participation of the governed. The deceased have no stake in, and thus cannot influence, their government. The living do have a stake in it, but are increasingly choosing to relinquish that stake. In doing so they declare their political defunction early, rendering their opinion as significant as that of the dearly departed.
Many choosing not to participate see the government as a sterile, rigid system forcing conformity from those who want to participate. More apt is the comparisonto a living organism, let's say a Portuguese man-o-war. The man-o-war is most healthy when all of its cells are functioning. If one or two stop working, not much changes, but if large numbers stop, the whole organism lies down for the proverbial silt nap.
Similarly, the Constitution is often referred to as a "living" document, a system existing not in itself, but through the will and consent of those who created and continue refining it. Our system of government has matured as we have grown from an agrarian plantation society into the most technologically advanced superpower. It has worked because of the will of generations committed to fixing the problems and making it work.
Admittedly, though, American democracy is on life support; we had a House incumbency rate of 99 percent in 2002, an abysmally low voter turnout rate and a whole process that is drowning in corporate and special interest money. Luckily, the system can be improved -- evolved, if you will -- closer to something with a spine, but the way to improve our system is to increase active participation, not reduce it.
The problem with the arguments against voting is that they exacerbate the already asphyxiating atmosphere of political apathy in America, apathy that is the root of most of the aforementioned problems. With each citizen who gives up, America's already shaky EKG comes closer to a flat line. Choosing not to participate is not a "protest," nor is it pragmatism -- it's a deadly exercise in laziness.
It is irrational to refuse to make a choice because you feel neither of your options is in your best interest; certainly one choice must be in your better interest. For example, say you are drafted to spend a week in a large saltwater fish tank. You have a choice between two possible companions, either a clownfish or a Portuguese man-o-war. Of course you would rather not be in the fish tank at all. It's not in your "best interest." Surely, though, you can make a choice that's in your better interest.
Still, it's possible that you see your choice between Democrats and Republicans as a tad more sinister, like that between a man-o-war and tiger shark. In this case the system offers you recourse; the write-in spot. At the very least, your vote for a write-in will send your message of dissatisfaction; not voting at all sends no message at all.
If you are unhappy with Bob Barker's (or whomever you write in) chances of becoming president, there are hundreds of options. Tell the parties about your frustration. Write letters, make yourself heard. If no one listens, find a candidate you do like and run him in the next primary, even if he's dead.
There may be several differences between lying on a couch and in a coffin on election day, but your chance of affecting the outcome is not one of them.
Herb Ladley is a Cavalier Daily viewpoint writer.