If you aren’t swayed by the pathos-driven patriotic call to the polls, you aren’t alone. Convincing people to be politically engaged is a massive collection problem for at least two reasons: the paradox of voting, and the idea of “rational ignorance.”
The paradox of voting says, at its core, that for most (rational, self-interested) people, the costs of voting simply outweigh the expected benefits. So in voting, if the cost outweighs the benefits (i.e. you believe your vote likely won’t make a difference), there are frankly better things to do on a Tuesday evening. The opportunity cost of time, gas, registration, etc. is a high price to pay for a very low expected benefit—in fact, the train of thought goes, if you vote, you are irrational.
Rational ignorance is “refraining from acquiring knowledge when the cost of educating oneself on an issue exceeds the potential benefit that the knowledge would provide.” Basically, at a certain point, the benefits of acquiring information about different issues fail to outweigh the costs. And, since rational people make decisions on the margin, many people make the calculation that the marginal cost of acquiring more information about politics exceeds the benefits. It’s not that people are unable to access the information, as the internet has made the cost of acquiring information lower than ever. And it’s not that people don’t know how to acquire knowledge—as Noam Chomksy notes, the fact that people have very complex and complete knowledge about sports is indicative of the reality that people could learn more about politics if they wanted.
How can we respond to these concerns about the supposed irrationality of voting? I can think of at least three ways to push back against staying home on election day: consider the importance of down-ballot (especially local) races, the significance of collective action and the social utility of voting.
In the antics of the presidential election, it’s easy to forget that on Nov. 8 (or before through early voting), we’ll have the right to vote for more than just the president. In my home of Orange County, Florida, I recently casted my vote with no less than 32 bubbles filled. I voted for positions ranging from my federal and state Senators to Soil and Water Conservation District Supervisors, a job that I was not even aware existed.
So if you’re concerned that your vote won’t make a difference, consider local elections where the pool of votes for some candidates is comparatively much, much smaller. Many of these elections can actually be very close, and while your vote might not be the “deciding vote,” there’s at least a small chance that it could be. Bernie Sanders won his election as Mayor of Burlington, Vermont by only ten votes. Ten. At the local level, your vote really does matter.
So if you’re considering not voting because you are disenchanted with your nominees for president, I would ask you to reconsider—local politics is a neglected, under-scrutinized and overlooked part of our political system. Taking an hour to learn about these local races and cast an informed vote is surely an hour worth spending.
So, onto the significance of your vote at the national level. The short story is that you singular vote has a very small chance of flipping the presidential election. But the long story is that collective action, even on a somewhat small scale, is incredibly powerful—and you can be a part of that.
One paper, published through Western Economic Association International and contributed to by Nate Silver, brought some interesting ideas to this discussion. The authors found that the chance of your vote deciding the presidential election is as much as one in 10 million (if you’re in a state near the national median (hello, North Carolina!), which is comparable to the odds of winning in some lottery systems.
Importantly, they also found that (fudging some electoral details) turning out 1,000 people for your side in, say, 2008 New Mexico, would have a 1.3 percent of flipping the state. If New Mexico’s electoral votes are decisive, this transpires into a 1 in 6,000 chance of swinging the national election. These are some pretty significant odds, especially if we’re considering the impact of this in swing states.
So, while your individual vote will very, very likely not be the deciding vote for president, it’s more powerful than you might expect, and if you and some others are able to overcome the collective action problem on at least a small scale, your collective votes become more and more significant, especially in swing states (another hello to my Orlando readers).
I would suggest that, even if you are not convinced that voting makes rational sense, you should perhaps consider the social utility that being politically engaged brings along. There’s nothing better than a spirited discussion about politics over lunch or by the water cooler. And there is something to be said for the intangible value of practicing a right that not everyone in the world, and very few people throughout history, have had the chance of practicing. The right to vote is no small thing—it is the product of a very long struggle for a government by, for, and of the people.
So on election day or beforehand, I hope that if you are able to vote, you will. Even if your one vote won’t be the tipping point, you can rest easy at night knowing that you overcame the collective action problem and made your voice heard in perhaps the most important election of our lifetimes.
David Wohlever Sánchez is a Trinity sophomore. His column, “simple complexity,” runs on alternate Wednesdays.
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