Probably not. In spite of nationwide reports about long waits and crowded polling stations, only about 51 percent of the electorate–around 105 million people–actually went to the polls to cast a vote. That’s a 2 percent increase over the participation rate in the 1996 contest between Bill Clinton and Bob Dole but still one of the lowest turnouts for a presidential race in the past four decades. In the Kennedy-Nixon race of 1960, some 63 percent of eligible voters went to the polls. In the 1984 Reagan-Mondale race, it was 53 percent. “We didn’t have a higher-than-expected turnout,” says Curtis Gans, director of the nonpartisan Committee for the Study of the American Electorate. “We did have long lines, but that’s because there weren’t enough polling stations.”
Nor does this year’s slight increase suggest any trend toward greater voter involvement, argues Gans. “This is the second closest election since 1888,” he says. “It’s the closest in Electoral College votes since 1888. And nearly half of the eligible nation didn’t show up.” Gans describes the almost-steady decline in turnout rates in recent elections as “a continuing problem.” “The slight bump up we have in turnout is not any sign of a turnaround,” he says.
Still, the breakdown of this year’s voter-turnout figures does hold some lessons for political analysts. One feature of note was that significantly higher participation figures were recorded in the 16 states identified as battlegrounds. (The toss-up state of New Mexico was the only exception.) States with more predictable outcomes had more uneven rates, with five–New Jersey, Nebraska, Oklahoma, Indiana and South Dakota–returning record lows. “The difference between the battleground and nonbattleground states had to do with the mobilization efforts,” says Gans. “They do point to the utility of grassroots contests.”
The varying voter-turnout figures also showed that special-interest groups did manage to mobilize their members to vote in larger-than-usual numbers. African-American turnout in particular increased “enormously” in states ranging from Missouri to Texas, says David Bositis, a senior policy analyst at the Joint Center for Political and Economic Studies. In Florida, for example, black residents of voting age make up 13 percent of the population, but their turnout this month rose to 15 percent of the state’s total votes from 10 percent in 1996. Similarly, black participation in Missouri rose from 5 percent to 12 percent over the last four years; from 10 percent to 15 percent in Texas; from 13 percent to 18 percent in Tennessee, and from 27 percent to 34 percent in Mississippi. Alabama, Arkansas, Illinois, New York and North Carolina also recorded slightly larger black turnouts than in the last race for the White House.
In closely fought states like Florida and Missouri, says Bositis, the improved participation was because voters realized the importance of their votes. In others, local considerations like the involvement of black candidates for other offices also played a role. “The most fundamental reason [for the increase] was a combination of the [mobilization] effort that was made and the fact that the effort represented a consensus among African-Americans that they wanted the Democrats to win,” he says.
Union organization, too, helped Democratic candidate Al Gore in several areas. The thousands of union volunteers who made calls or went door-to-door to persuade their members to get out and vote managed to increase union participation to a high of 26 percent of the ballots cast on Nov. 7. By contrast, the union share of the vote was 23 percent in 1996 and 19 percent in 1992.
It is, of course, too early to speculate about how many voters will turn out for the 2004 election. But the lesson of the 2000 race appears to be that–even in this high-tech age of the Internet and multimillion-dollar ad campaigns–the personal appeal is still be the best way to motivate the electorate.
title: “Getting Out The Vote” ShowToc: true date: “2023-01-21” author: “James Johnson”
These weren’t the khaki-wearing middle-class protesters who had brought down Ferdinand Marcos in 1986 and Estrada earlier this year. They were the masses from Manila’s fetid slums, who represent a far greater swath of Philippine society. In their plastic sandals and ragged clothing, they denounced Estrada’s arrest and demanded his return to power. On May Day, at the urging of opposition leaders, the throngs marched on Malacanang, destroying barricades, setting vehicles on fire and clashing violently with security forces. Three people were killed and more than 130 injured.
May Day is also a distress call, and the worst riots in the capital in 15 years underscored how much help the Philippines still needs. The country has a democratic tradition that’s half a century old, but in recent years that tradition has been revived (after Marcos) and rejuvenated (after Estrada) with what amounts to mob action. The danger is that with a political scene dominated by charismatic personalities rather than institutions, such extraconstitutional methods begin to seem an appropriate means of effecting political change. The mass demonstration is quickly becoming the hallmark of Philippine democracy. That does not bode well for the nation’s faltering economy. With Estrada’s trial not set to begin until June 27, there will be plenty more opportunities for his supporters to take to the streets. “The more disturbances, the longer our wait-and-see period,” says Lorenzo Lichuaco, chief representative of HSBC Securities. Arroyo knows she must quell such fears as quickly as possible if the country is to attract foreign investment. In a hastily arranged meeting last week, Vice President Teofisto Guingona reassured foreign diplomats that the “state of rebellion,” set to be lifted May 7, would not affect them. “The courts are open, traffic is flowing, the cocktails continue,” said Guingona. “No one needs to be alarmed.”
Arroyo, at least, should be worried about the intensity of Estrada’s support among the poor. Estrada, after all, is accused of pocketing $82 million in kickbacks and bribes, much of it stemming from the illegal-gambling operations that soak the poor. (It would take the average Philippine slum dweller more than 356,000 years to earn that much.) The former B-movie actor now has the distinction of being the first Asian head of state to be impeached and the first Philippine president to be sent to prison. But the poor still love him, just as they adored the bumbling tough guys he played on screen who always had a soft spot for the needy. As one domestic helper at last week’s protests said: “People Power II was for the rich. This is for us.”
That support is carving a dangerously wide divide between the haves and have-nots. During last week’s pro-Estrada rallies that began on Epifanio de los Santos Avenue (Edsa), mobile-phone text messages–one of the most popular forms of communication among the middle class–buzzed with demeaning jokes about the protesters. One read: “Do you have a low I.Q.? Are you jobless? Foul-smelling? If you are, then go to Edsa. You have a rally there.” The resentment, of course, is mutual. The vast majority of the Philippines’ 72 million people are crushingly poor–more than a third live below the official poverty line ($230 a year)–and they deeply distrust the elites who have traditionally run the country. Many protesters suggested that Estrada had done no wrong, and that those same business and political leaders had fabricated corruption charges against Estrada in order to install Arroyo, the wealthy, well-educated daughter of a former president.
Arroyo’s response to the crisis, on the other hand, has relied to an uneasy extent on the high-handed tactics of her more authoritarian predecessors. The president claimed that last week’s assault was part of “an attempted coup” and ordered the arrest of a dozen “instigators,” including several top candidates in the May 14 senatorial elections: Sen. Juan Ponce Enrile, former National Police chief Panfilo Lacson and Sen. Gregorio Honasan (the colonel who led several coup attempts against Corazon Aquino). In a radio interview last week, Lacson said he does not expect a fair hearing. “It’s politically motivated,” he said. (Arroyo denies she is trying to clear out her rivals before the elections.)
The economist in Arroyo knows these are only half measures, that the Philippines will never enjoy long-term stability unless she addresses the needs of the poor. But she is hampered by Estrada’s other lasting legacy: a crippling budget deficit. “She’s caught between applying Band-Aid solutions or nailing poverty in the long term,” says economist Arsenio Balisacan. Arroyo also lacks Estrada’s magic touch with the people. When she made her first visit to a slum recently–an act that was second nature for Estrada–she was loudly jeered. Even more, she failed to anticipate how the public would react to the treatment of Estrada as a common criminal. The humiliating images of the former president being fingerprinted, photographed and imprisoned provoked great public sympathy. The idea that justice must be meted out equally is “a middle-class phenomenon,” explains Mary Racelis, director of the Ateneo de Manila University Institute of Philippine Culture. The poor “believe someone like Estrada should be treated differently.”
Arroyo will have a tough time convincing his supporters that she should be, too. Having been brought to power in an undemocratic fashion, she must now make the case that grievances against her should be aired only through democratic means. That will be a hard sell among the poor, who have long believed they do not have a voice in ruling circles. She made a start last week by visiting Estrada in his suburban prison. He seemed miffed by the president’s sudden arrival as he watched an NBA playoff game, but gamely shook hands with Arroyo for the cameras. That may help defuse some of the ill feeling among his supporters, but the kind of political and economic stability that could help alleviate their poverty might well continue to elude the Philippines.
