“It doesn’t matter if I dislike the attached outcome; it only matters that I dislike it less than the alternative.”
One of the questions I dread most today is the bullfight-ready “So who are you planning to vote for in November?” Not to step onto the third rail of politics, but I am perfectly comfortable sharing that I have not been particularly enthralled by the offerings of either major political party over the past several years. Had I a passionate preference, I would happily posit a response when prompted, but there’s something so unappetizing about arguing whether wet cardboard makes for a better lunch than rotten tuna.
And so, I eventually decided to skip the metaphorical lunch altogether. I would tell people that I simply did not plan to vote, which seemed to anger them only slightly less than the idea that I would be voting opposite their intended candidate. There was something incredibly comforting about this decision because it allowed me to avoid the painful option of choosing either a rock or a hard place. But the cold, rational economist in me wouldn’t let up. “There are two options,” he would tell me, “and you’re going to end up with one whether you like it or not. There has to be some preference, as distasteful as that preference may be.” The fact of the matter is that my wet cardboard or rotten tuna philosophy is flawed. In my metaphor, there weren’t two options for lunch, but three: cardboard, fish, or hunger. In my lunch order scenario, indecision was a choice attached to a separate outcome – I could choose not to eat and go hungry instead. My voting habits do not follow the same rules as my lunch selection. There is no option to go hungry. I can choose not to participate, but like it or not, I’m going to be eating either wet cardboard or rotten tuna, depending on what everyone else decides. And so, if I have any preference whatsoever, my outcome is improved by casting that vote. It doesn’t matter if I dislike the attached outcome; it only matters that I dislike it less than the alternative.
Now, you might be thinking, “But wait, if we all just refused to eat the cardboard or tuna, couldn’t we force the metaphorical kitchen to offer better options?” It’s a fair point, and active engagement can shape the proverbial menu over time. But in the short term, on election day, we’re stuck with the choices in front of us. This is probably not the most rousing pontification for democracy that you’ll hear. It says little about the rights and duties that come with self-governance or the importance of civic duty. But I’m an economist, and I’ll deal with incentives and rationality. To be clear, there’s a cost associated with voting- You have to drive or walk to the polling place and stand in line. It’s a little unpleasant and a little uncomfortable. As somebody who deals in incentives, I certainly can’t ignore them. But I also deal with rationality, and that means calling out my own instances where I fall short. I can’t say that I’ll be particularly excited about my lunch, but come November, I know I’m going to order something.
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