So, who should be voting?

When we vote this October, we will likely breathe a sigh of relief: the hoardings will have been removed, and the election campaign will be over. Alongside this sensible reaction, irrespective of whether the election result goes the way we want it or not, we should also try to cultivate a sense of gratitude. Why?

We live in a functioning democracy. Those who wield power are chosen by the free vote of the electorate. Political differences are adjudicated on the campaign hustings rather than in the streets. And the transfer of power is peaceful.

Democracy’s benefits are many. First, it is a system which embodies the ideal of fundamental human political equality. More practically, as Canadian political scientist Frank Cunningham’s book Theories of Democracy notes, democracy reduces political violence, serves as a check on bad leaders and increases societal satisfaction and stability. Or, more succinctly, as Sir Winston Churchill said: ‘‘Democracy is the worst sort of government except all those others that have been.’’

Sadly, democracy is also not a natural state of affairs in the world today. According to the Economist Group’s Democracy Index 2022, only 72 countries (or 43% of the world’s total) can be counted as ‘‘full’’ or ‘‘flawed’’ democracies. And the trend is in the wrong direction: it counted 74 democracies the year before.

But while we might agree that the government should be chosen by voters, it is not always clear who those voters should be.

Membership of the electorate is often redrawn. Ancient Athens is the most wellknown example of early democracy, but the ‘‘demos’’ (‘‘the people’’ who made up the ‘‘democracy’’) consisted of free, male citizens: perhaps only 30% of the adult population. Early 19th century Great Britain had a constitutional monarchy, a sovereign parliament and periodic elections, but the population who could vote was perhaps only 10% of the adult male population.

Of course, the proportion of the population voting in New Zealand in 2023 is a much higher proportion than either classical Athens or Regency-era Britain. But the exact boundaries of our demos are often shifting and being called into question.

For example, last year, the Supreme Court weighed in on the minimum voting age, holding that the minimum voting age of 18 was a breach of the Bill of Rights Act 1990. Should prisoners vote? The law has undergone numerous changes since 1840, the latest being in June 2020, when the Government granted the right to vote to all prisoners serving a sentence of less than three years. What about the Kiwi diaspora?

Only last year, the law was temporarily changed to relax the requirement that New Zealand citizens must return here every three years to be able to vote.

These three issues all fall under the remit of He Arotake Pō titanga Motuhake – Independent Electoral Review, which is looking into how our electoral system should work and which just released its interim report. So how should we define the boundaries of our demos in a principled manner?

Perhaps we should consider various justifications that have been put forward as a definition of the demos. For example, everyone whose fundamental interests are affected by laws passed by Parliament should be able to vote. This ensures that the voters rule over themselves by determining who is best placed to represent their interests.

In the case of 16-year-olds voting, we should consider not the predicted benefits to the electoral turnout (which are inherently uncertain and which could be achieved through more certain ways such as mandatory voting) but at what age we are emotionally and mentally equipped to determine who is best placed to represent their interests. While we might not fully mature in this respect until our mid-20s, generally, 18-year-olds are better equipped than younger teenagers.

Alternatively, we might argue that our common humanity grants us not only equal moral worth and standing but also political equality. Under this view, a vote is a fundamental human right, one that should not be readily erased by being sentenced to prison, irrespective of whether you see sentences as being too light or not.

For New Zealanders living overseas, we should be asking: are they still sufficiently connected to our political community? Connection is not best measured by whether you returned here for a fleeting visit once every three years.

Instead, a less restrictive rule based on the amount of time you have spent living out of New Zealand is more apposite – nine years or three electoral terms seems a good approximation for continued connection.

We are blessed to live in a democratic society. Let’s ensure that the boundaries of our electorate are defined in a way that is consistent and principled . . . and not merely in a way that we think will favour any one side. If we do, we will continue to enjoy an electoral system we can trust. That’s something worth being grateful for in October, but it is also worth celebrating.