Our vote, our future

One of my friends from home wakes up early every morning at college so he can read The New York Times and watch CNN before class. He likes to know what's going on in the world and is, by most measures, a thoughtful and aware citizen. That's why I was surprised when he recently told me he wasn't sure he'd vote in November.

"I just don't know if I'll get around to it," he said. "Or I'll forget to do the whole absentee ballot thing."

I am excited about voting in my first presidential election. That said, I know — from both surveys and conversations I've had — that many of us "just won't get around" to voting.

In the 2000 presidential election, only 29 percent of voters ages 18-24 went to the polls compared to 55 percent of all eligible voters.

For many of us, I suspect the consequences of voting or not voting seem too distant. Instead, and understandably, we are preoccupied with cramming for tests, getting to our jobs on time and finding a fun party on Saturday night. And let's be honest, if voting meant we had to miss an episode of the "The O.C.," probably about three of us would make it to the polls. But familiarizing ourselves with the issues really isn't that complicated or time-consuming. Both candidates have comprehensive websites, and the actual act of voting takes a matter of minutes.

Right now the stakes are just too high to disenfranchise ourselves. As young men and women - our peers - are putting their lives on the line in Iraq, voting is, no matter your party affiliation, literally a matter of life or death. And don't we owe it to ourselves to help shape the world we will be learning, living, and working in for the next half century? The policies of today on social security, health care and education are a blank check, and our generation will be paying the incurred debt.

If we don't vote, it gives older generations a false impression of our generation's concern for the present and commitment to the future. Contrary to what our low voter turnout might suggest, I think we care very much about the world in which we live. Our strong sense of moral and social purpose is reflected by the fact that 61 percent of our age group participates in some form of regular community service, according to the Democratic National Convention Committee. My most stereotypically vapid friend — she refuses to wear the same outfit twice in a semester and religiously reads celebrity magazines — also reads to blind people over the phone.

I don't see why we can't show that kind of commitment to our political welfare. Over my winter break last January, I went up to New Hampshire for a week to campaign in the Democratic primaries with a group of fellow Princeton students. Every day, I witnessed countless volunteers my parents' and even my grandparents' age standing on street corners in subzero temperatures, holding signs in support of their candidate.

One day, after heading inside to warm up for a while, I came back out to find that the man with whom I had been standing on the street corner was still there. He was about sixty-five and I asked him, "How can you bear the cold?"

A rugged New Hampshire man, he chuckled at my wimpiness before striking a serious tone. "This is the least I can do," he said.

If he's this invested in the future, shouldn't we be? We'll be around a lot longer than that guy will. I'd say that casting our votes is the least we can do. P. G. Sittenfeld is a sophomore from Cincinnati, Ohio. He can be reached at pg@princeton.edu.