This May, I would have been able to vote for the first time. Having missed out by a matter of weeks in the 2010 general election, I looked on in envy as my friends cast their ballots. But this time, as the registration deadline loomed, I decided I no longer had any intention of voting and didn’t sign up.
I’m not alone. According to Ipsos Mori, as many as 56% of 18- to 24-year-olds didn’t vote at the last election. The Audit of Political Engagement estimates that 30% of the same demographic are certain not to vote this time around. This would suggest that non-voting 18- to 24-year-olds are as significant a group as those who vote for any one party.
Those who choose not to vote – whether like me they didn’t register, won’t turn up on the day, or plan on spoiling their ballot – are widely denounced as voiceless wasters who sacrifice their place in a democracy. We are called apathetic, “not very smart at all”, and told to “grow up”. If you don’t vote, the argument goes, you can’t complain when you’re excluded.
Amid the outcry by those who are, in one way or another, part of the political establishment, there has been a notable lack of voices from non-voting young people themselves. I’m not putting words into people’s mouths, nor am I telling people not to vote, but here’s the logic to why I’m not going to be casting a ballot come 7 May.
I’m not apathetic – far from it. I care deeply about the issues affecting me, people around the world, and the planet itself. But that concern no longer extends to voting. The spectrum of modern politics doesn’t seem to offer anything and by voting for a party – be it established, a newcomer, or the Monster Raving Loony Party – I am endorsing a system I don’t have faith in. A system that seems perennially rigged in favour of interests that we the public are never entirely allowed to grasp, full of people who have been shown time and again to have a set of interests and ambitions far removed from our own. I am not content to be “represented” by politicians I don’t trust. And I certainly don’t want to vote “tactically” for a party I don’t like, only to sit back and watch them run rampant for the next five years.
Perhaps part of the problem is generational. Like many others, I was shocked when the Liberal Democrats sold themselves to young people on the basis of one of the most important issues for us – tuition fees – did such a dramatic U-turn. This time around I am as unmoved by last-minute campaign promises and unbinding manifestos as I am about politicians’ kitchens. Growing up, we were taught to see politicians as moral beacons. In the modern landscape, full of squabbles, petty blaming and point-scoring, I am reminded of my own behaviour with my younger brother, when I was seven.
And I know that, whether or not I vote, I become a statistic – a largely symbolic one at that – and a mass of absentees and spoilt papers is as symbolic as anything else. The electoral system, parties and politicians all need votes – not simply to get into office, but more fundamentally for credibility. I, and perhaps a few others, have decided not to give them that credibility.
So when 7 May comes, young people around the country will be finding ways to participate in democracy, whether or not they’re voting. Maybe this involves engaging with mainstream politics; maybe this involves rejecting it altogether. Not content to be passively represented, young people are exploring, experimenting with, and finding alternatives – on the streets or online.
Our current electoral system isn’t the sum of democracy. It wasn’t the first, and it won’t be the last. To all those who like me aren’t voting: don’t be fooled. You’re not voiceless, and you count just as much as those who put crosses on ballot papers.
