Is US Electoral Politics Irreparably Broken?

In which I try to think and write my way through a bunch of stuff [really, there’s no better noun] in the aftermath of the 2024 presidential election.

 

I fancy myself a person who may be able to be more objective than many about the state of electoral politics in this country. My parents were, in their separate ways, principled voters: my father voted in every election, best I can recall; my mother refused to vote in primaries, as she thought the requirement to declare a party violated the privacy of her vote, but otherwise consistently exercised her franchise. I duly registered and began voting when I turned 18.

I soured on presidential politics early on. The two-party duopoly led to mere flavor variations in the type and extent of corporatist structure the federal government (fedgov) favored rather than substantive differences. I continued to vote in every election to have a say in local decisions, and wrote in my own president/VP choices. Not long after that, I discovered libertarianism and became a principled—in contrast to an apathetic—nonvoter.

Politics—by which I mean the steps that comprise group decision-making—still interested me; as a cognitive psychologist, it’s part of my general fascination with human functioning, malfunctioning, and dysfunctioning. But I became deeply skeptical of citizens’ ability to make good decisions in electoral politics (voting), in large part because of: laws and practices that heavily advantage the entrenched political parties, including the electoral college; laws that restrict access to registering and voting; gerrymandering; lobbying the fedgov to gain/retain influence; the role of money (especially PACs and super PACs); and a mostly accommodating media. Social media has made it all much worse, with deliberate disinformation a popular currency.

Ranked-choice voting is an important component of breaking the duopoly’s grip on power. Where it’s been tried, it seems to be working well. But it challenges entrenched powers and is a perpetual target for mis- and disinformation.

So I understand many reasons for not voting, even while I see it as important: it’s the only way an individual can have a direct voice in governmental politics without becoming a politician (that includes both appointed and elected officials). The saying “You may not be interested in politics, but politics is interested in you” is true. I became a voter again because I felt that by standing on the sidelines, I was not really participating in helping to create the kind of society I want, both for myself and for future generations, including my children.

To put it another trite way, the personal is political. It’s convenient today to cast this in terms of “wokeism,” but it’s accurate for us all. Individuals generally want to retain their (real or perceived) status and advantages. Some see those nebulous concepts as fixed, discrete quantities, which necessitates competition for the limited resources. Others view them as more like a spring of water: once they’ve drunk from it and benefited, there’s plenty left for others to benefit from. Some in this group want to help other thirsty people find the spring, believing that society is improved as a consequence of individuals’ lives improving.

Even on a local level in most US jurisdictions, one individual vote is rarely decisive. But individual votes matter in the aggregate: a dedicated formal or informal voting bloc can make a difference in an election’s outcome. Are they fired up to be counted? Are they so confident of victory that they think they don’t have to show up and add their voice? Are they disinterested enough to have no fucks to give?

I think the answers to those questions played a role in the ’24 election. I also think a potential shift in Americans’ attitudes may have played a larger role.

The United States used to be called a melting pot. But disparate groups haven’t really melted into a cohesive whole, with a somewhat unified vision of whence it came and where it should go. It’s much more like a heterogeneous suspension, with some bonds holding tighter than others. The idea applies not just to ethnic and religious identities, but also socioeconomic status, educational status, sexual and/or gender identity, and political party. The politics of inclusion versus exclusion have played an increasing role in regroupings within our political suspension.

I’m old-fashioned enough to take the Preamble to the Constitution at its word: “We the People … in Order to form a more perfect Union,” but it’s possible that a majority of voting Americans no longer have the goal of a more perfect union in mind. They seem to vote as their amygdalae point—and social media has made the politics of fear and identity a potent weapon. [It’s important to note that as of this writing, votes for third-party candidates have kept either of the duopoly candidates from getting a majority of the popular votes cast.]

Another possibility is that among those who do take that goal seriously, a growing proportion have given up on fedgov electoral politics as a means to support and achieve it. As sad as that is to me, I cling to that hope and the concomitant one that the next four years will rouse them to take electoral political action. That a majority of voting Americans is completely disinterested in the well-being of their fellow citizens is too disappointing for me to contemplate.