People in the United States love to vote.
We vote for dancing celebrities and vocalists in search of stardom. We vote for pageant contestants chasing sashes and scholarships, and we vote in community forums to prioritize public investments.
We hold more elections than other democratic nations to fill an array of public offices for justices of the peace, school board members, voter registrars, and prosecutors. We’ve created a bizarre maze of registration requirements to determine when and how people can participate in political elections.
And yet, the U.S. still manages to elicit relatively low rates of voter participation.
Invariably, some election analyst or Facebook prophet will pronounce, “If you don’t vote, you don’t have the right to complain.” I despise that phrase.
In spite of our professed love of voting as one of the most precious and fundamental features of American democracy, the framers crafted a Constitution that doesn’t include an affirmative right to vote. The Constitution, 230 years after its ratification, still grants states the authority to set the time, place and manner of elections – and, by extension, voter eligibility requirements. America is exceptional in her professed commitment to democracy and the limits she places on voting.
Today, millions of Americans are denied access to the franchise because of a criminal conviction. Felon disenfranchisement laws prohibit currently and, in many states, formerly incarcerated individuals from voting. According to the nonpartisan think tank Prison Policy Initiative, there are 2.3 million people behind bars in the U.S. in facilities ranging from local jails to federal immigrant detention facilities. In every state except Maine and Vermont, people behind bars are prohibited from voting. In 13 states and the District of Columbia, voting rights are automatically restored upon release from prison.
