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TOM EATON | Why you really, really have to register to vote this weekend

The ruling ANC won 10-million votes in 2019 — far fewer than the more than 16-million citizens who didn’t vote at all

Voters play soccer while waiting to make their mark at Pretoria West High School on May 8 2019. Non-voters outnumber by far those who vote for the ruling ANC, says the writer.
Voters play soccer while waiting to make their mark at Pretoria West High School on May 8 2019. Non-voters outnumber by far those who vote for the ruling ANC, says the writer. (ALON SKUY)

I’m guessing that if you’re reading this, and are vexed enough by politics to need the odd laugh at its expense, you probably vote. But as we go into the final voter registration weekend, I’d like to speak directly to another group of South Africans: those who are not going to vote this year.

Hello, non-voter! Tom here. Nice to meet you. And I mean that. I share many of your frustrations. I’ve heard many of your reasons for not voting, and some of them make strong emotional sense.

But if you’ll allow me a couple of minutes, I promise to be infinitely more succinct and honest than the politicians you despise, and perhaps give you another perspective on the claims I’ve often heard you make.

“My vote won’t make a difference” or “The ANC will just win anyway”

Again, I understand the feeling of helplessness, but consider one mathematical fact: you, as a non-voter, are part of the biggest power bloc in the country. The ANC won just over 10-million votes in 2019. Your bloc numbers between 16-million and 18-million. All political power resides with you and your comrades. You’re all just choosing not to wield it. And so, given how democracy works, you’ve handed your power to the next-largest bloc — the ANC.

“All politicians are the same”

In my angrier, more hopeless moments, when the venal hypocrites have dragged us down deeper into the muck, I agree with you.

But the fact is that not all politicians are the same. Songezo Zibi and Zackie Achmat would no doubt bridle at being called politicians, but I’m not sure what else you call people who have entered politics to contest elections. And if we’re going to call them politicians, then something becomes extremely clear: Zibi and Achmat are nothing like Jacob Zuma or Gayton McKenzie.

To be clear, I’m not telling you to vote for the first two, or not to vote for the other three. If you decided to come back into the system and vote, it should be according to your conscience, your worldview, your belief system, and what you consider best for the country. But if you’re not voting because you consider all options equally bad, please remember that that’s not true.

“Withholding my vote is the only way they’ll listen to us”

I understand the theory, but how’s your boycott going in practice? Have the ANC and leading opposition parties noticed your absence and panicked? Have they addressed you, the non-voter, directly, in media campaigns, admitting their failings and showing an understanding of why you’re not voting? Have they started implementing positive changes to prove to you that they are worth voting for?

I didn’t think so.

That’s because of one immutable fact: they don’t have to.

Hotel chains don’t have to worry about the dietary requirements of people who will never check in.

Elon Musk doesn’t have to care what you think about Tesla if you aren’t planning to buy one.

And political parties don’t have to listen to you, or even know you exist, if you don’t vote.

To the people who will be in power for the next five years, your absent or spoilt vote isn’t a protest or a challenge or an ultimatum. It’s just a formal instruction from you to them, ordering them to ignore you and what you want.

“I’m not interested in politics”

I get it. Politics is like an incredibly bad soap opera. You can tune out for two years and then come back and everything is the same, just with slightly worse actors and more absurd storylines.

But the cliché is true: you might not be interested in politics, but politics is very interested in you.

Whether you vote, someone is going to win the next election, and when they do they’re going to have a material impact on your life. So wouldn’t it be better if you had a say in who that is? Even if there isn’t a party you want to see in government, wouldn’t it make sense to try to put one good person in parliament, thereby keeping a bad one out?

I understand if I haven’t convinced you. You’ve been thinking about this, and feeling your feelings, for years, and 700 little words are very unlikely to shift the needle.

Still, I thought I’d try. And that’s what I’m hoping you’ll do, too. Because if it was me, I’d at least like to know that I tried.


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