In perhaps one of the most poignant interactions surrounding the ratification of the Constitution, Benjamin Franklin left Independence Hall and was accosted by a citizen of Philadelphia who posed the question, “What have we got, Mr. Franklin? A republic or a monarchy?” Most have heard Franklin’s notorious, almost pessimistic reply, “A republic, if you can keep it.”
Every other November, and sometimes more often, we vote. We send representatives to our townships, counties, state legislatures, and Washington, D.C., to represent our interests and ensure the future security of the republican form of government. Some elections receive more pomp and circumstance than others, but each is fundamentally necessary for the preservation of our way of governance.
Yet, when a citizenry has so long been favored with the privilege of self-government, it often becomes callous to the blessings such a system bestows.
Congressional approval in recent years often never rises above 25 percent, and even in years past, rarely reaches 35 percent. Presidential approval hovers in the 40-50 percent range, with the occasional spike in either direction during nation-shaking events. Inarguably, government has grown more intrusive than it was ever intended to be. Inefficient, out-of-control spending creates a looming financial crisis, judicial activism runs rampant, as the nation’s courts create law rather than interpret it, trade barriers drive up production costs and hurt both producer and consumer, unwise foreign alliances and tedious appeasement policy attempt to band-aid wounds that need comprehensive surgery, border crises reveal that U.S. immigration policy is essentially nonexistent, and reform is desperately needed.
Winston Churchill famously said, “The best argument against democratic government is a five-minute conversation with the average voter.” Some of the voting bloc recognizes that there is much work to do, but this is overshadowed by low voter turnout and apathy. In presidential elections, voter turnout is about 60 percent, while midterm elections turn out roughly 40 percent of eligible voters and local elections turn out embarrassingly low numbers. People are angry at government, yet many would rather take to Twitter or Facebook to express their frustration than apply themselves to careful study of the issues and express their concerns at the polls. Alexander Hamilton’s firm declaration at the New York Ratifying Convention in 1788, “Here, Sir, the people govern: Here they act by their immediate representatives,” does not resound so pointedly when half of the voting population does not participate in the process by which our government must subsist. In addition to simple voter apathy, there is rampant lack of interest in the electoral process. A Pew study in 2017 found that an estimated 22 percent of citizens do not even register to vote, showing nothing but simple negligence and utter carelessness for the system that grants them the ability to have a say in how they are governed.
This lack of self-education and government has, without question, been one of the greatest contributing factors to the rigid political division which poisons the country today. While the 2016 elections and President Trump are often the subjects of intense blame and guilt for the toxicity of the modern political climate, these underlying issues statistically existed long before 2016 and Trump’s political career. The difference was that the 2016 elections explicitly and unabashedly brought those concealed prejudices and frustrations to the surface rather than let them fester for even longer than they already had. It was revealed that every issue could cause sheer outrage and pit the various factions against each other with a single word.
Both sides of the aisle were guilty. Both sides contributed to the petty squabbles and lack of productive conversation. Election Day came and went, and Republicans took control of both elected branches of government, eager to implement a conservative agenda. This very thing had happened before. Power and influence have transitioned from party to party throughout the history of this country, but this time it was different. The lack of civility did not subside after Election Day 2016, as it generally had in years past. It lingered. It lingered to the point of physical violence and harassment toward White House cabinet members and senior congressional officials. It lingered to the point of public calls for more intimidation from notable public figures. It lingered to the point of character assassinations with no legal or ethical backing against Supreme Court nominees.
Rarely, if ever, in the history of this republic have tensions been so high, and in large part because the Democratic side of the aisle refuses to come to the negotiating table, simply because of who the president is. This scorched-Earth strategy does not contribute to our national dialogue and does nothing but a disservice to the public. Perhaps it’s why so many don’t see the need to vote. If this is what we’re offered, why bother?
In an op-ed entitled “Republicans Reach for the Moon“on Monday, House Majority Leader Kevin McCarthy articulated the nuances which face us on Election Day, drawing the comparison of the early 1960s and the optimism and unity that gripped our nation in the Space Age. In the conclusion of the piece, he says:
Of course, I say this as a Republican. But if Democrats win on Election Day, I know the sun will still rise on Wednesday, and it seems that the other side of the aisle is less and less likely to acknowledge that fact. However, regardless of political persuasion, when midterms come to a close, a shift must occur. We must start engaging with the political process again, talking with each other again, and disagreeing passionately but with civility.
Franklin wasn’t shy to acknowledge the frailty of this republic, and its survival is reliant on how well we apply his colleague Hamilton’s words, “Here, sir, the people govern.”
Tim Murcek is a student at Liberty University’s Helms School of Government and president of the school’s class of 2020.
