Democracy is about more than just elections. I'm pleased to see a growing debate about the nature of the democratic system
I failed to vote on Tuesday. It seems a bit absurd given that I studied politics and work in journalism, but the truth is, I'm not really that worried about it. It isn't that I don't care who the Mayor of New York is, it's that I think democracy is deeper and means much more than just elections.
A common concern in electoral democracy is "will my vote matter?" It's widely documented within the field of political science that if the decision to vote is based purely on individual utility (ie what I'll get out of this person being elected), the probability of casting a decisive ballot wouldn't make voting worth it. As Columbia University's Andrew Gelman notes, it would only make sense if they enjoyed the act of voting in and of itself.
Gelman and his colleagues, Aaron Edlin and Noah Kaplan, seek to illustrate why casting a ballot is worth it by dumping the idea of the "selfish voter". They argue that voting is rational because the potential utility gained by society as a whole would be great enough in any size election so as to make the minimal effort of going to the polls worth it, despite the lottery-esque odds of actually "making an impact" individually. At it's core, it's not about direct instrumental benefit to the voter, but contributing to the larger benefit of good governance. It's not just aggregative, but also normative.
In this light, my perspective towards being a non-voter may seem flippant. Particularly given the case of Desiline Victor, the 102-year-old African American woman who stood in line for three hours in Miami to vote in 2012. But what makes her action significant, and earned her the recognition of President Obama at the 2013 State of the Union, wasn't her individual vote – it was her belief in the worth and efficacy of that vote and the barriers she had to overcome to exercise her right. It was her belief that she was participating in something of greater importance than her personal convenience, and what her story said about racial exclusion from the voting process, that made it notable.
So how can I still feel like a good little-d democrat? Because democracy is a full-time gig, and there are plenty of important and necessary ways to participate beyond "the Tuesday after the first Monday in November". Governance is more complicated than official government power and codified law. There are many unwritten laws that impact the way we live our lives, and we engage and influence the way they function outside of the institutionalized policy-making process.
I've been pleased to see a critical discussion about the nature of democracy of late. Some of it within the pages of the Guardian. Probably the most high-profile instance was Russell Brand's piece following his much-shared and much-belittled interview on BBC's Newsnight. One critical step in Brand's democratic revolution: recognizing that you can't change the system if you are lending the system legitimacy by participating. He writes:
The only reason to vote is if the vote represents power or change.
Since he doesn't think this is the case, Brand won't vote, and he encourages others to do the same. This decision – unlike my own absent-mindedness – is an expressly political move, contributing to a debate over just how democratic liberal democracies are. I have to agree with the 15-year-old's essay he references, arguing that "spoiling the ballot" would send a clearer message and pack a greater communicative punch than simply not voting – perhaps Canada's Edible Ballot Society would serve as a good model.
The point is, democracy is as much about open public debate over the condition of our lives, and how we want to see that condition in the future, as it is about the elections that are supposed to facilitate openness and accountability. That's what the idea of "deliberative democracy" is all about: a popular conversation about politics within the public sphere. Elections and the legal crystallization of the outcomes are also a part, but the bounds of what constitutes rational deliberation and "democratic action" are, themselves, up for debate – both in theory and in practice.
One of my favorite political philosophers, Iris Marion Young, was critical of the dominant theory of deliberative democracy which often leaves voices out of the conversation. She wrote:
Exhorting citizens to engage in respectful argument with others they disagree with is a fine recommendation for the ideal world that the deliberative democrat theorizes … where everyone is included and the political equal of one another. This is not the real world of politics, however, where powerful elites representing structurally dominant social segments have significant influence over political processes and decisions.
This, in many ways, is the crux of the debate about the protest at Brown University that prevented NYPD commissioner Ray Kelly from giving a lecture. The Nation ran a piece a few days ago including several columnists' opinions as to whether that constituted an infringement of free speech, or an example of democracy in action. I have to agree with one of the activists who wrote in the Guardian that "protest is discourse on the terms of the oppressed." Any action is a relevant form of political communication if it causes reflection on an issue; it's status as "democratic" being determined by whether it is non-coercive (with consideration given to power and access) and advances the democratic ends of liberty and equality.
I personally think voting is "rational" and worthwhile. But this is true of many forms of political participation – even those we don't always recognize. While I do plan to vote in the next election, I will see it as just one portion of contributing to the creation of a truly democratic world.
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