Unlike many anarchists, I am not opposed to voting on principle. I think that voting for less government is a legitimate act of self-defense, and I disagree with the argument that casting a vote necessarily implies support for the system. Nonetheless, this year I refused to vote, something I would have thought unthinkable two years ago.
My first experience with voting came when I was nineteen. Being young and stupid, I allowed my professors' pious sermonizing on the supposed glory of democracy and duty of voting to influence me, and so went out and voted. I knew my favored candidate (Harry Browne) had no chance, but I thought that casting a vote was something a patriotic person did. So, I went to my polling place, voted, and went home, filled with the warm glow of my certainty I had done something patriotic, public-spirited, and virtuous.
After a while, things started to go downhill. Though not my first choice, I was glad that Bush had won. (I still am, despite everything he's done since. Just about anything is preferable to Al the Undead.) I had low expectations for him, but, idealistic youth that I was, I expected him to be at least tolerable. These hopes were quickly dashed by the steel tariff and the campaign finance 'reform' bill, which Bush signed despite his public admission that he knew it was unconstitutional. After that, any shred of hope I had that Bush would respect freedom or the Constitution were cast on the junk pile next to my belief in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, and limited government. Some of the things that have gone on post-September 11th hammered the last nail into the coffin.
And so, not long after Bush was elected, I came to a recognition I had tried to avoid for years: The only two parties that had a chance in Hell of winning were both fundamentally opposed to virtually everything I held dear, and in agreement with each other on most of their basic premises. Despite abundant evidence to the contrary, I had hoped against hope that, if only they controlled the government, the Republican Party would stand up for liberty. With each new betrayal by Bush, I realized I had been a fool, a willing dupe who had let himself be sucked in by rhetoric. The core doctrines — foreign interventionism, regulation and socialism, the welfare state, control of private life, and big government — remain the same. The only 'choice' was to see my country die a quick death or a slow one.
Meanwhile, the shine of 'democracy' had worn off as well. If elections were nothing more than a contest to decide which group of state-worshipping scum would be ruining my homeland and passing out money stolen from the public, then where was the supposed patriotism of voting? Further, it was around this time that I was making the shift from reluctant minarchist to full-blown anarchist, so the argument that "it's the worst form of government, except for all the others" was no longer able to convince me that I should pinch my nose and participate anyway. So, with no good candidates with a chance of winning, or any chance of a worthwhile candidate making a noteworthy showing, what would my vote accomplish? One thing only- it would make me a participant in this useless, evil farce. It would be a proclamation to the world that I found it worthwhile.
Don't tell me that democracy is what America is about, or what makes America great. America is — or was — about freedom. That is our greatness. Democracy is a tool, at best, and a pretty poor one at that. It is not the basis of American identity, any more than a bicameral legislature is. Don't tell me our veterans fought for the right to vote. Our veterans had more sense than that. They fought for their freedom, their families, their property, or their love of home, but they did not fight for the sake of democracy, any more than they fought for such purely instrumental things like six-year terms for senators or the president's power to appoint judges.
This isn't to say I'll never vote again. As I said before, I'm not necessarily opposed on principle to casting a vote. If I ever see a candidate with a chance of accomplishing something worthwhile, I will. But until that happy day, I will not participate in a depraved, treasonous state's rituals of legitimization.
November 29, 2002
