in public elections, however, we may lose many of these feelings of direct participation. We make our way to a polling place and vote anonymously. We are only one of many millions of voters, and if we fail to vote, no one will notice. Our vote, we believe, can make no difference, break no ties, and so serve no purpose. Why, then, should I vote?
If we think only of the outcome, we can convince ourselves that there is no reason to vote. We have good reason for thinking that way, since most of the sound and fury surrounding our elections, from the campaigns preceding it to the news coverage the night of the election, focuses on outcome. Everyone wants to know who wins, who loses, how did this precinct or state vote, how did that one vote. We know our own small effort is in that mass of numbers somewhere, but we do not feel any immediate satisfaction. We suddenly feel that if we took that huge number we see on our television screen, whether on the winning or losing side, and subtracted one, it would make no difference. We can perhaps assuage these feelings by asking ourselves, "What if everyone thought this way? That would make a difference!" But we could just see this as every bit as unlikely as that we would cast the tie-breaking vote.
No, the real reason we should be certain to vote should not be based on the outcome but on the process itself. We are not part of something important because we are on the winning side. We are not part of something important because the outcome is determined by our one vote. We are part of something important by the mere act of voting, the mere act of participating in a process shaped by the Founding Fathers and protected over more than two centuries by our ancestors.
Elections determine the nature of the popular will at a given time. They suggest how the people view the issues of the day, how various actions preceding the vote
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