Valerie Lapinski
I voted last week, but I’m not going to tell you who I voted for. Maybe it’s a midwestern thing – nobody in my family talked politics at the dinner table.
In 2000, I was tortured about whether to vote for Ralph Nader or Al Gore. I told my dad (who I think is a Libertarian? not sure!) that I was struggling about who to vote for. I believed in Nader’s platform (hey, I was 22) but knew that he might split the liberal base. My dad said simply: “Vote with your heart.” Isn’t that sweet? Of course, we had that whole conversation without naming names ...
Mike Barry
We have no such reluctance in my family – I’ve actively discussed for whom I planned to vote – Bernie Sanders – in this year’s primary with my husband, parents, friends ... even my doctor. But my personal networks are, on the whole, exceptionally engaged politically while remaining fairly homogenous ideologically. Perhaps that fact informs our willingness to share that we chose one Democrat over another, rather than revealing we are secret LaRouche lovers.
Valerie
As a journalist, I think it’s fair to tell your readers who you vote for. But personally, I hope that my values are apparent through my actions and my character. I worked in public radio and give money to Planned Parenthood, so you do the math. But there’s something really comforting – and safe – about keeping my vote private. Not just from voter intimidation (as a colleague recently reminded me, Americans fought hard for their right to have voting privacy), but from discussions that could damage my relationships.
There’s something nice about knowing my family will always love me, no matter my vote. It’s also nice to know that we never, ever have to discuss that I may or may not have considered voting for Hillary Clinton (whom they hate with such venom I can’t even recognize the nice people who reared me when they talk about her).
But does my reticence mean I don’t care enough? Like I’m not living my values loudly enough?
Mike
Oh, hardly. I find the small bit of intellectual rigor required to define who I’m voting for to be personally reassuring: like I’m making the right choice. It’s less about “living my values loudly” and more about “road-testing my logic”.
But concurrent to that urge for validation is another impetus: if I feel strongly enough about a candidate’s principles – or political talents, or governing credentials, or whatever I’ve identified as their core assets – to cast my ballot for them, I almost always feel strongly about the desire to spur others to feel strongly about those assets.
You raise an interesting point about how your actions reveal something about your vote. I respect the importance of a secret ballot, particularly when it protects the disadvantaged from intimidation or coercion. But how secret are our votes, really, when we consider how public so much of our lives have become? Does a member of the Trump train see my public same-sex wedding photos on Facebook and not have a strong hunch that I’m not voting for their man?
Valerie
That’s what’s missing for me: that desire to spur others to care and/or vote in an active way. Maybe it’s because I’ve been working in journalism almost since I was able to vote, but my skepticism always keeps me from feeling truly exuberant about a candidate.
I voted last week, but I don’t really feel like trying to convince anyone to vote the same. Though I wonder, is it because I’m voting from a place of privilege? I am likely to be fine, no matter who becomes the president. If I truly felt like my own rights were going to be taken away, or that I may be deported, or lose my job, would I be more vocal? Or would I still be satisfied to let my actions be enough to put out into the world?
Mike
Sounds like it’s less about total secrecy as a political being for you, and more about wanting the integrity of your agency as a political being to be respected.
Is that privilege born of a lower stake in America’s election? Perhaps, but it’s also an acknowledgement that as much as we might try to empathize with our fellow human beings, we can never “walk a mile in their shoes” to the point that we understand every nuance of their political philosophy.
Then again, maybe my compulsion to share my voting choices with others is cynical too. If I fancy myself one of those “high information voters” who bemoan flimsy arguments and fact-free rhetoric, then publicizing my politics can feel like a public duty – a way to counteract the spectacularly unchallenged bullshit that can spew unfiltered from the mouth of, say, a demagogic presidential candidate and land in front of my eyeballs on a cable news channel.
Valerie
All this said, this privacy debate definitely applies to the primaries for me. I’m not voting for the Republican candidate in the general election – and that’s no secret!
Mike and I would also like to hear from Guardian readers: are you comfortable sharing who you’re voting for? Or are you fanatic about your voting privacy? Share your thoughts in the comments.
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