In 1971, as Stevens officially admitted its first women undergraduates, the United States ratified the 26th constitutional amendment, which set the national minimum voting age at 18. Previously, states set their own minima, and the predominant choice was 21. Pushback was built up from young citizens who could be drafted as early as 18 under federal conscription laws, leading to the fastest amendment ratification process in the country’s history. The next year, in the first presidential primaries where 18-year-olds of all states could register to vote, U.S. House Representative Shirley Chisholm, the first black woman to be elected to Congress, ran a historic presidential campaign, winning the New Jersey primary and coming in fourth at the Democratic National Convention.
A half-century later, U.S. college students have received a particular kind of focus in this year’s November elections. Of course, there was the Spring of encampments and other protests over Israel’s military campaign in Gaza, some of which have resumed this fall. Many other issues this election — the increase in the cost of living due to inflation and housing shortages, accessing abortion in the post-Roe landscape, court battles over student loan forgiveness and Title IX policy, and the evermore present specter of climate change all blend into a strong concoction that’s particularly hard for the just-come-of-age generation to swallow.
Moreover, for first-time presidential voters, this is a strange election in a few key respects. There are comparisons to 1972, when a black woman made huge strides despite no small amount of grumbling or hesitancy from establishment figures, on the opposite side of a Nixon-esque figure with strong views about the power of the presidency and a big bone to pick with perceived enemies during his first term. Or one could liken it to four years prior, when Democrats met in Chicago for a convention at which their incumbent was not seeking reelection, and the U.S. was shocked by high-profile acts of political violence (thankfully, this year has not seen assassinations like the ones in 1968).
Before I finish up this tangent, I’d like to share my comparison, which is to 1920. Back then, primaries did exist but were nowhere near how they function today, so neither the Democratic nor Republican candidate had a “contested primary period” in the modern meaning. Perhaps more interestingly, though, a convicted felon, despite in his later years, retained something of a cult following among certain parts of the U.S. That’s where the comparison between Donald Trump and Eugene V. Debs, socialist standard-bearer of the early 1900s who received almost a million votes in 1920 while actually in prison serving out a sentence, ends.
Obviously though, finding exact historical comparisons to the 2024 election is impossible, and obscures the point of actually voting. I don’t claim to have the perfect definition or interpretation of this core civic duty, but to me, it’s a social compact among citizens to cast a ballot for the slate of representatives each one views as the best choice for addressing that citizenry’s issues and bringing it toward prosperity. This means voting, at its best, is a forward-looking act, putting trust in the candidates one believes in, as well as trust in the fellow citizens exercising their rights.
This year, the world has provided us with several examples of voters casting their ballots for change. In India and South Africa, while the incumbent parties either retained a majority or held onto control after building a coalition, voters sent a clear message that the status quo needed reform. The United Kingdom’s Labour Party made historic gains in Parliament after more than a decade as the opposition party. And in Taiwan, the Democratic Progressive Party held onto the presidency, despite growing pressure from China, which supports the DPP’s rival. In all, countries consisting of half the global population will have held elections by the end of this year.
Those may be the highlights, but they’re worth remembering even with the saddening headlines that come from a particularly fraught global political climate. Democracy may be in retreat and violence on the rise, but voting offers us all a chance to make the courageous act of choosing the former over the latter. Our elections, despite their imperfections, are as secure as they’ve ever been, and we continue to have a rather free press determined to shed light on all aspects of politics (and life in general). We are able to vote because of the efforts of our peers from 50-plus years ago, chanting “old enough to fight, old enough to vote.”
This also brings to mind a family story for me. In 1994, my mom was going to visit her older sister in Pittsburgh. When my mom arrived, her sister was watching footage of South Africans voting in the first open elections after the fall of apartheid, where Nelson Mandela and the African National Congress made its historic victory. Polling stations were packed as people finally granted full citizenship cast their votes, with joy and tears. After watching that, my aunt, at that point a 20-something who was skeptical of voting, made a vow to never miss an election — and stuck with it until her untimely death in 2015.
So, you may say that this whole article has mostly discussed the past, which contradicts my point about focusing on the future when voting. I did write a lot about the past, that’s true, but I know very little about the future. I will nevertheless try my best to focus on that future when I cast my ballot, and I have faith that you all will too. That vigor to press for change is in all of us— we are a deeply motivated bunch at Stevens—and for that I trust that you will all vote with a remembrance of the past, and a focus on the future.
