Indifference

            When I open my mailbox, it’s packed with mailers. Re-elect So-and-So. Recall Him or Her. Move Forward. Move Backward. Vote!  Vote! Vote! With mail in hand, I retreat to my condo, tossing the loose sheets of paper on the counter as I pass by. I turn on the television. News programs and commercials discuss rallies, meetings, and stumps. Vote for me because I said so. Don’t vote for him/her because they’re evil! She did what? How dare he! Vote for me! Don’t vote for him! Do you remember my name yet? Vote! Vote! Vote!

            Messages aren’t just relayed through mailers and television, though. They’re also seen on fences and in yards, those political signs flapping slowly in the wind. Some go missing, some get slashed. Take one away, though, and it somehow finds its way home. Choose me! Don’t choose him! Eat a sandwich! Vote! Vote! Vote!

            It doesn’t stop there. The newspapers and online magazines are full of commentaries and coverage of the issues we all face. This is happening! That is happening! Everything is awesome! Everything is not awesome! My head hurts! Vote! Vote! Vote!

Coverage is constant. Unending.

            But is anyone listening?

                                                            ***

            During my time studying at the University of Colorado, I immersed myself in subjects that interested me: German literature, the grotesque, non-fiction, Congress, state legislatures, and many more. Having devoted my full attention and effort to such classes, it was natural that I was successful in them. I enjoyed what I learned, and was eager to learn more. I became well versed in the subjects I felt mattered.

            However, attending university doesn’t mean you can take electives like underwater basket weaving, or in my case, postmodern literature in England, without having to take some other classes to keep you well rounded. One such mandated class was physics. Having decided against studying physics in high school, they made it a requirement for me.

I was displeased.

If I disliked the two days of physics lectures I took in high school, what made CU Boulder think I’d enjoy a semester full of them?

Because the university was kind, they gave me three choices: I could take a sound and music physics class, a physics class that taught of light and color, or I could not graduate. Being color-blind eliminated the option for light and color. Taking that would have resulted in an automatic fail, for sure. Not graduating college wasn’t even a possibility for me, so I opted for the sound and music course.

I wasn’t going to like it, but it had to be done.

            Walking into the auditorium on my first day, I snagged a seat on the top row near the exit, which was unusual for someone who always sat up front. I pulled out my textbook, but didn’t open it. Instead, I sat there, watching the remaining two hundred students fill the room. A group of people came in the last minute and took the seats near me. We exchanged hellos and introductions, spoke of how much we were going to hate the class—aside from one guy—and  quieted down when the instructor came out from a door behind the stage. After the typical discussion of a syllabus, the professor began the lecture.

I knew I was in trouble from the moment she opened her mouth.

I had no idea what she was discussing, how it was relevant, how I could apply it to my life as a writer or a policymaker, or how I was going to retain the information long enough to not fail the class. She assigned us homework that night, and after struggling with it for an hour, I took to Facebook, searching with all my might for the student who sat next to me and said he liked physics. By some stroke of fortune, I found him. He agreed to help.

 We would meet and do the homework together. The other guy and girl who had attended the first lecture with us also joined in. We created a study group. We went to office hours. We went to help lab. We went to external lectures and concerts. We even went to an opera, trying to understand sound and music and gain credits for class through external assignments. These efforts, plus the occasional curving of a test, proved vital to my success. I was able to pass the class with a surprisingly high grade.

Because of all the time I spent studying physics, I learned physics. Shocking, I know. I could have been doing other activities, like visiting my attractive macroeconomics teacher, reading Goethe in the Norlin library, riding my bike through Golden, or playing chicken with oncoming traffic. But I chose to study physics because I knew that not doing so would negatively impact my future.

                                                *

Fast-forward to 2015. I have lost almost all knowledge of the physics pertaining to sound and music. Honestly, I don’t care. My mind is full of information that I have deemed relevant, such as school board recalls, mayoral candidates, and other ballot measures. It’s a pre-election year. There is a bountiful choice of presidential candidates available, and all talk about the dozens of issues that are causing America’s decline. They are white noise at this point, adding to the chaos around the select few issues being decided upon this November.

With the amount of coverage on issues this year, I thought there’d be an uptick in the number of voters who participate, and I believed they would be knowledgeable about the ballot measures and candidates. Trends show that non-presidential election years yield far fewer voters. It’d be foolish to think as many voters would turn up this year as they did last year, or the year before, but I was hopeful there’d be at least a decent amount of intelligent voters.

Then I read a local paper, and my hopes fell flat.

I won’t name the paper I read, because I don’t hold it in high regard. In this paper, one section that tends to be popular amongst readers is the poll question they ask. Once a week, a reporter will go out and ask citizens a question. They’ll jot down their answer, snap a photo of them, and post it in the paper. Some past questions include:

Do you enjoy pumpkin spice lattes?

What is your favorite thing to do in the summer?

Will Peyton Manning help the Broncos make it to another Super Bowl?

I’ll be honest, the responses to these questions are usually droll and not worth reading. But a few weeks ago, they asked a legitimate question, and it piqued my curiosity.

            What do you think of the candidates and issues on this year’s ballot?

            I was ecstatic to see a policy question! I was ready to be awestruck by the responses! I thought to myself, finally! People are beginning to understand the importance of local politics!

            Then I read the responses.

            Out of the four people polled—two men, two women—all of them said that they weren’t familiar with the issues. At all. One woman said she’d just look it up later before she votes. Another guy said he didn’t know what issues were on the ballot. Worst of all, one citizen said that he didn’t care because he’s more concerned with ISIS than his local community.

            I wanted to cry.

            Scream, too.  

Everyone deserves the right to vote, and everyone should vote, but as a voter, it is imperative that we be informed. Voting for or against someone based on their name, their looks, or their party affiliation doesn’t cut it. Those are characteristics of a person, yes, but they don’t illustrate everything.

Taking a little bit of time to research the people running for city councils and school boards, and looking at both sides of ballot issues, like recalls and taxes, is imperative to the voting process. Yes, the media is bias. Yes, we as humans are also bias, but we shouldn’t bar ourselves from the chance at utilizing a variety of sources for information, even if those sources have different views. You don’t need to be an expert on everything; you don’t even need to be an expert. You just need to know enough to make a good decision. Cramming at the last minute doesn’t get anyone far on midterms and final exams in college, and it won’t help when it comes to voting.

I think back to my physics class. I hated that class, but I knew that the information I absorbed through the lectures was important. Politics is no different. Many, many people hate politics. I don’t blame them. I hate physics. Yet, just because you aren’t interested in certain issues, doesn’t mean you should vote indifferently on them. Do a little research. It’s true, I didn’t remember every answer on my physics exams, even after hearing the information repeated over and over in lectures, and I know it’s difficult to pay attention when the attack ads come out blazing, and the mailers fill the postbox, and all we hear is Vote! Vote! Vote! Still, we must all persevere. Drown out the white noise. Synthesize the mass of information into something tangible you can understand and hear.

Spend a little time. In the end, you’ll have made yourself not just a voter, but an informed one. Being an ill-informed voter is just as bad as not voting at all.