When I first mentioned to some fellow-students at Yale University that I was writing an article on young voters and asked what they were feeling in the run-up to the presidential election on 2 November, I immediately received an enthusiastic response: What do you want me to say? Ill say anything. And you can quote me on that.
Although they are not likely to play a decisive role in the outcome of the election, Yale students, the majority of whom have reached voting age since the 2000 election, are highly engaged and invested in its outcome. What factors are contributing to this student mobilisation? What do students think, expect, want of their next president? I set out to investigate these questions and to reflect on my own thoughts and feelings on the eve of one of the most divisive and closely-fought presidential elections of modern times.
I have often felt frustrated about the choices available in a two-party system, and about the inescapable role the media plays in spinning anything and everything that comes out of the candidates mouths. I am not alone in this. The rapid circulation of a clip of comedian Jon Stewarts appearance on CNNs Crossfire underlines widespread student scepticism about the political process as it currently operates. It also prompted me to reflect on what our fascination with Stewarts behaviour on Crossfire says about how students view both politics and media.
In the interview, Stewart charges hosts Paul Begala and Tucker Carlson with failing to live up to their responsibility to the public discourse. Although Stewarts persistent interruptions stop the media is hurting us and disparaging remarks about Carlsons bowtie seemed to earn the latter audience sympathy and support, his suggestion that political debates broadcast on national television harm public understanding by perpetuating spun political agendas without engaging with the issues in a meaningful way resonated with me. Further, campus discussion suggests that students are impressed that Stewart is standing up to the media, and pleased that he is challenging the political-media system in direct, simple and humorous language: Youre hurt-ing A-mer-i-ca.
Routes of commitment
However, scepticism and media-bashing aside, at this late stage in the campaign, committed supporters of George W Bush and John Kerry on campus are urgently seeking last-minute converts to their cause from the elusive swing voters who, it seems, will send one of these Yale graduates to the White House.
Although student interest in the presidential election varies, my impression is that this election is exponentially more important to the current generation of students than were past elections. Both liberal and conservative groups on campus are organising get out the vote trips in the weekends leading up to 2 November. From the Bush Busters to the Yale College Republicans, many of my classmates are actively involved, and many previously sceptical, apathetic, or simply overworked students seem to feel that they are engrossed in the election in ways that surprise even themselves.
Many factors seem to have contributed to student activism heading into this election: the close result of the 2000 election demonstrating that in marginal states every last vote can count, the prominence of the war in Iraq, perhaps even the surprising success of Howard Deans grassroots campaign for the Democratic nomination proving that small groups can effect large changes.
This variety of motives is reflected in the range of responses my classmates gave when I asked which issue in this election they considered most urgent to them. Some found national security to be of utmost importance and explained to me that Kerry simply cannot fight the war on terror as effectively as can Bush. Others pointed to the economy, arguing that if Bush is re-elected social security will be bankrupt when we are ready to retire. I also heard a fair amount of anyone but Bush. Given this highly charged political backdrop, I understand why students participate in voter registration phone-a-thons and devote their weekends to driving voters in the crucial states of Pennsylvania and Ohio to the polls.
A rite of passage
Those of my classmates who do intend to vote are enthusiastic, even proud, of the efforts they are making to participate in the election. There is even something of a competition among my peers to share stories of the most heroic attempts to obtain an absentee ballot:
I waited on the phone for over an hour to speak with someone from my county election office when my ballot didnt show up in the mail as expected.
I faxed my signature to my mothers office fifteen minutes before the deadline for submitting a request for a ballot, and she raced to City Hall just as they were closing the doors.
In a context where the majority of us live in states that are already decisively shaded red (Republican) or blue (Democrat), this excitement may appear a form of irrational exuberance. But its passionate sincerity also calls to mind my own electoral rite of passage four years ago.
I turned 18 two weeks before the 2000 election and was able to cast my vote for Al Gore. I had followed the primaries with interest and cared about the outcome of the election, but I primarily wanted to vote because I thought voting was an adult kind of thing to do. I even had a photograph of myself taken when about to cast my vote outside our neighbourhood polling-place. Even though my smile in the photo is somewhat forced (I distinctly remember cringing with embarrassment as my father gestured at me to rearrange myself in front of the Polling Place Vote Here sign), I was happy to pose for the camera, aware that I was participating in a coming-of-age ritual.
I included this photo on my high school senior yearbook page, placed between a picture taken shortly after my passing my driving test soon after my 16th birthday and another from my high school junior-senior Prom. Thus, voting in a national election was a way of defining myself as a member of a larger community and identifying my role within it. I cared about voting because I saw it as a privilege and responsibility of citizenship, an act that represented my graduation to a sphere that was larger than the protected bubble of home and family, school and friends.
There was a practical as well as a symbolic aspect to my understanding. Going into the 2000 presidential election, my ideal image of voting was what happened in the classroom on a sunny day when, after much persuasion from several students, a teacher asked us to raise our hands if we wanted to hold class outdoors. In a class of only fifteen students, the odds were quite high that my vote would be decisive.
The reality of the Bush vs Gore election was very different: I felt disappointed when my candidate did not win despite gaining a majority of the popular vote, and irritated when it struck me that my opinion had no direct impact on the result of the election. I had thought that voting was such an adult responsibility, and it turned out that I was left feeling as frustrated and powerless as a child. Coming out of the election, I began dwelling on the fact that only in extraordinary circumstances will a single vote make a decisive difference.
Yet in 2004 I am once again doing my best to make sure that I can participate in the electoral process although if I trust both opinion surveys and political precedents, I assume that my home state of California will go to Kerry whether or not I cast my vote. Why then, am I once again determined to make my choice count?
A conversation with a classmate who runs a conservative blog suggested one possible answer. This student explained that although he sometimes feels that his opinions are in the minority, writing entries in his blog and reading responses forces him to have conversations that he might not otherwise have, to reevaluate his own perspectives and form stronger, better developed arguments. I do feel that students on campus are genuinely interested in hearing from each other and value being in a small community that encourages respectful disagreement.
In 2000, voting was for me a rite of passage. Beneath the excitement I felt then, and which is now for my fellow-students to experience, we share an appreciation that the most significant privilege of the right to vote is that the electoral process itself involving discussion and dialogue as the prelude to decision-making creates the opportunity to question our assumptions and develop our opinions. Irrespective of the instrumentality of voting, we care about the moral and civic responsibility of participating in the democratic process.
