Every election cycle, millions of Americans representing a diverse cross section of the nation turn out to cast their ballots. The concept of voting is entrenched in western civilization, and while it might be easy to blindly engage in a tradition with cultural roots dating back more than two millennia, I suspect the inquisitive Brown student can do better.
When we analyze the motive behind an act, we necessarily compare it to all other possible actions, including inaction. To pass judgment upon the relative value of two or more actions, such as voting or not voting, presupposes the ability to compare them by some scale. Economists often use the term “utility” to quantify happiness — an abstract amalgamation of all positive qualia, which nearly all models assume to be the exclusive motivator in decision-making. Naturally, I am inclined to use this term as well, but I do not wish to unnecessarily claim that expected happiness as a consequence of an action is the sole motive behind that action. Instead, I would like to redefine “utility” specifically as that which spurs us to action.
While utility by our definition drives all action, it alone can do little expository work. We can answer our original question trivially by saying most people vote because such an action confers higher utility than the alternatives would. This motivates the notion of a utility function, which will allow us to parse out the underlying issues. Such a function is simply the weighted combination of elements that directly affect utility with respect to an action.
One could argue not all decisions are prompted by utility alone — particularlythose made reflexively or while in an emotional state. By definition, the term “reflexive decision” is an oxymoron. Unfortunately, we cannot so easily dismiss decisions made emotionally. The case could even be made that, to some extent, all decisions are made while in some emotional state. I hesitate to use the term “irrational” because such decisions still maximize expected utility. Our emotions do not circumvent, but merely distort our utility functions — transiently redistributing the weightings of their various components.
So now we consider the utility gained from the possibility of one’s candidate winning the election. At Brown, every student has the opportunity to work for Brown Dining Services and earn a starting wage of $8.75 per hour. Not working for BuDS means valuing the utility consequent from a free hour at greater than that from $8.75. For such people, even if voting took only five minutes, it would incur a fixed utility cost of at least 68 cents. In a 2009 paper, Nate Silver, then an independent blogger and analyst, estimated the probability of an average voter making a difference in a presidential election to be one in 60 million. Because this is such an unlikely event, the payoff would necessarily be significant for the action to increase expected utility. In fact, one would have to value his candidate’s winning at just over $40 million to be making a rational decision.
A voter can be gratified by the act of voting itself. Since this is a guaranteed — as opposed to exceedingly improbable — increase in expected utility, its implication regarding the prudence of voting is drastically greater than that of a vote’s monetary value. If one prefers aquariums to zoos simply because aquariums are more fun, then it is surely reasonable to frequent aquariums more often than zoos. But most see going to vote as valuable for reasons transcending pure taste.
Hypothetically, one might obtain utility by adhering to a view of morality that implies one ought to vote, but I seriously doubt the majority of students use such complex reasoning for something as commonplace as voting. More significantly — especially at a politically conscious school like Brown — I believe peer pressure affects many, and though this can effect practical results, it does not legitimately substitute for logical argument. Justification for voting certainly exists, but it seems obvious that the argument used by most — that voting has potential to make some national difference — is based on fallacy.
Often people will melodramatically ask, “Well, what if no one voted?!” This definitely would be disastrous, but utility functions evaluate competing actions on the basis of their relative ramifications. None of the possible actions lead to the outcome of no one voting, so this is completely irrelevant when choosing the best course of action.
Another widely held belief is that the act of voting engenders one’s right to complain should the opposing candidate win. This argument presumes that one voter has the opportunity to make a difference. For me at least, the choice not to vote derives not from any political apathy, but rather a sober understanding of reality.
Andrew Powers ’15 can be reached at andrew_powers@brown.edu
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