Democracy Sausages

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Do you vote in political elections?

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In Australia, voting is compulsory.

If you do not vote without a good reason, a notice eventually arrives in the post asking you to explain yourself or pay a fine. So, for obvious reasons, I vote.

But I would vote anyway.

There is something wonderfully ordinary about election day in Australia. Elections are always held on Saturdays. People wander down to local schools, churches, community halls, and public buildings. They queue with neighbours, collect their ballot papers, and use the pencils that everyone knows will be provided.

And somewhere nearby, almost inevitably, someone is selling sausages.

The Democracy Sausage has become part of the national ritual. So have the cake stalls, the folding tables, the volunteers, and the slightly festive feeling that something important is happening without anyone needing to become too serious about it.

I like that about us.

Australians can be deeply serious about democracy without being overly reverent about politics. We value the right to vote, but we are often suspicious of anyone who takes themselves too seriously. We have political views, but feel no need for political obsession.

In the evening, people gather for election parties, watch the count unfold, cheer swings, groan at surprises, and argue mildly over preferences. Usually it is good-natured. Though, of course, by the next morning there are always some people who are happy and some people who are not.

Citizenship means living together after the votes are counted. It means remembering that the people who voted differently from us are still our neighbours, colleagues, friends, family members, and fellow citizens.

I have no fixed political allegiance. I am what people call a swinging voter. I do not vote for the party most likely to benefit me personally. I try to ask what will best serve the common good. What will strengthen community? What will build trust? What will help us become a fairer, wiser, more generous people?

Because every election is asking us a question deeper than “Who should govern?”

It is asking: what sort of people are we becoming?

That is why I vote.

Not because I believe politicians will save us. Not because democracy is tidy or perfect. Not because every election is full of inspiring choices.

I vote because citizenship is not a spectator sport.

It is a Saturday ritual. A pencil mark on a ballot paper. A sausage sizzle. A cake stall. An evening in front of the television with friends. A small act of hope in the company of strangers.

And sometimes that is how a nation decides who it will be.