F
acing worsening polls,
Donald
Trump
has
brought the issue of
voter fraud to the forefront of
American
political
debate.
He
claims
that because of voter
fraud, the election is
being rigged against
him. It’s important
to note where these
claims come from;
Trump is advocating
for voter ID laws, a
legislative
monster
that the Republican
Party
has
been
building up for years.
While Trump tries to frame
the issue as protecting our
democracy, we need to be
aware of the facts. Voter ID
laws are intended to prevent
voter impersonation on Election
Day, but, as I will prove, voter
impersonation (showing up to
the polls and pretending to be
someone else) is non-existent.
Under false claims, the issue
of voter ID laws has become
political.
What’s
really
at
stake with voter ID laws is the
right to vote, which is an issue
that should not be politicized.
These laws already exist in
20 percent of states. Voter ID
laws
are
ineffective,
could
disenfranchise more than 21
million Americans and must go.
The problem of voter fraud
isn’t the issue it’s made out to
be. Donald Trump correctly
states that 1.8 million deceased
people
are
still
registered
to vote, but that in no way
indicates that voter fraud is
being
undertaken
on
their
behalf. The much publicized
South Carolina voting fraud
case of dead people voting
was investigated by the State
Law
Enforcement
Division,
and in an election with more
than 1.3 million votes, just
five possible, unaccounted-for
“zombie” votes were found.
Trump claims that 14 percent
of non-citizens are registered
to vote, but according to the
managers
of
the
database
who accumulated the data
he’s basing that on, “the likely
percent of non-citizen voters in
recent US elections is 0.”
In Florida, there are more
instances
of
shark
attacks
than there are of voter fraud
cases with sufficient evidence
to investigate, according to
Politifact.
A
comprehensive
report
published
in
The
Washington Post found just
31 potential incidents of voter
fraud out of one billion votes
cast, dating back to 2008. The
number of Americans killed by
lightning from 2000 to 2010?
It’s numbered at 441, which is
11 times the amount
of potential voter
fraud cases.
A research group
from
Arizona
State
University
investigated
2,068
election-
fraud cases dating
back to 2000 and
concluded
that
while
fraud
has
occurred, the rate
is infinitesimal, and
in-person voter impersonation
on
Election
Day,
which
prompted 37 state legislatures
to enact or consider tough
voter ID laws, is virtually non-
existent.
Let’s
break
down
what
we’re
talking
about:
Voter
impersonation exists on such
an “infinitesimal” level that
there is “virtually no voter
impersonation
fraud.”
That
is what all the data indicates
over the past decade. However,
to
stop
this
non-existent
problem, we have potentially
disenfranchised up to 21 million
Americans, roughly 11 percent
of our country, which is the
number of Americans without
a valid voter ID who would be
prevented from voting.
So why, you ask, do we have
these laws at all? You might
not be shocked at the answer
— it’s political. Ninety-three
percent of Blacks voted for
the Democratic Party in the
2012 election. There is an
unmistakable trend that these
laws are intended to suppress,
in
particular,
votes
from
minorities. If you’re doubtful,
look at the trends. Twenty-five
percent of African Americans
do not have the necessary voter
ID that some states require,
while only 8 percent of white
Americans do not. The U.S.
Court of Appeals ruled that the
North Carolina voter ID law
was unconstitutional, saying
that the provisions “target
African Americans with almost
surgical precision.” What led
them to such a conclusion?
North
Carolina
lawmakers
actually requested data on how
race affected voting behaviors.
According to the lawmakers,
“with race data in hand, the
legislature amended the bill to
exclude many of the alternative
photo IDs used by African
Americans. The bill retained
only the kinds of IDs that white
North Carolinians were more
likely to possess.”
In
that
race
data
was
also research that indicated
African
Americans
were
more likely to use same-day
registration
and
the
early
voting period. With this data
in
hand,
North
Carolina’s
legislature eliminated same-
day registration and cut the
early
voting
period
nearly
in
half.
Most
damagingly,
the judges wrote that this
“comes as close to a smoking
gun as we are likely to see in
modern times, the State’s very
justification for a challenged
statute hinges explicitly on
race.” This is a court, not a
partisan think tank. Courts
around the country have slowly
started to rule these voter ID
laws unconstitutional in that
they target minority voters.
To
further
prove
the
politicized nature of the issue,
feel free to juxtapose the most
conservative states with those
with the strictest voter ID laws.
There’s another clear trend: In
general, the more Republican
the state, the harsher the voter
ID laws. The GOP platform
actually argues for stricter
voter ID laws, even though
a federal appeals court has
ruled them unconstitutional.
Combined
with
felony
disenfranchisement,
which
by itself disenfranchises 13
percent of the Black population
in
the
United
States,
an
absolutely staggering number,
voter ID laws are intended to
build upon laws that already
suppress
minority
voting.
There is no doubt that voter
suppression of minorities is a
politically charged action.
Democrats and Republicans
both go out of their way to
politicize what should not be
politicized. This is just another
example, but it’s crucial to
promoting
real
democracy.
Nearly 11 percent of the country
does not have proper voter ID
— to disenfranchise all those
people for political reasons is
undemocratic. In the face of
voter fraud rhetoric, we can’t
lose sight of the big picture and
get steamrolled. We need to be
finding ways to increase voter
turnout, not depress it. On the
principles of our democracy,
we must reduce voter ID laws,
and our rhetoric around it
must change.
Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4A — Wednesday, November 2, 2016
Voter suppresion is the real threat
Let’s deconstruct celebrity
ISAIAH ZEAVIN-MOSS | COLUMN
W
alking
into
The
Loving
Touch
in
Ferndale on a cold,
dreary Thursday night, I was
surprised to see, standing right in
front of me, the artist
whom I had come to
watch. Greta Kline,
the lead singer of
Frankie Cosmos — one
of my favorite bands
— was selling her
group’s merchandise,
standing
behind
a
propped-up table. No
security in sight, no
intra-crowd shoving
or
cursing
to
get
Kline’s attention. She
stood there, engaging
with her fans, and we responded
with equal calmness.
I
found
this
experience
surprising
for
many
reasons.
Principally, I find that we as a
culture endow celebrities and
artists whom we admire with
certain divine attributes. We
shake their hands and then do not
wash that hand, as if the artist’s
talent might literally rub off onto
us. We configure lives for them,
somewhat based on their music,
but mostly upon our projections
and fascinations and imaginations.
And I do not mean to distinguish
myself from this culture of
fanaticism. Last month, after
seeing Bernie Sanders speak at
UMMA, I felt viscerally saddened
when I could not shake his hand.
He was quickly swept behind a
curtain by a big, burly security
guard, and he was gone — whisked
away and thrown back into the
confines of my mind, where I can
project fantasies and ideas about
Sanders the celebrity, ignoring
Sanders the human.
But Kline’s warm welcoming
of her fans seemed to blur this
very distinction between the
celebrity and her fans. Instead, if
only for a moment, she became
one of us. Dressed in an oversized
striped shirt, blue jeans and a
simple baseball cap, Ms. Kline
interacted seamlessly with the
dozens of people asking for
photographs. Many of
these fans stood and
stared in disbelief at
Kline’s
unequivocal
generosity
and
welcoming attitude.
Immediately upon
entering the space, I
came up to her and
asked if she would be
in a photograph with
me.
She
accepted,
and turned to me
— admittedly, I was
sweating
(I
sweat
more than anyone I’ve ever met,
outside of my brother (and this is
something we bond over a lot and
he’s coming this weekend so if you
see me feel free to empathize or to
check in with us about our surely
sweaty armpits and backs and
faces (and do you feel the effect
that this anecdote about my sweat
had on you? You now feel like you
know an additional element of me,
the writer, Isaiah (Hi, I’m Isaiah),
because I shared it with you, I
said, “Hey, I can actually share
more than I normally do because
I trust my reader not to call me
out. I trust that I can be a little bit
vulnerable and playful with my
reader. That’s what I think was at
the core of Kline’s open welcome
to her fans)))). I struck a pose —
and, without a hesitation, Ms.
Kline stuck her tongue out and her
hands up as if we were best friends
— and, in that moment, I felt like
we could have been! She was right
there with me, in that moment,
equally embracing our shared
sense of silliness and playfulness.
Eventually, the show began.
Having seen Kline in this casual,
playful context made me feel so
much closer to her music, which
deals explicitly with the narrator’s
self-consciousness and anxiety.
There was no longer any alienation
between myself and the words
and sentiments in the songs. This
could be about me, this could be
about any of my friends whom
I’m dancing with, about any of my
friends from home.
I think there’s a lesson to be
learned from this experience:
By fantasizing and imagining
lives for celebrities, we do not, in
fact, get closer to them. Instead,
the conclusions at which we
arrive have their footing in other
assumptions
that
we
make.
And I’m not saying this sort of
fanaticism is inherently wrong.
Not at all. As I said, I engage in
it — it’s fun to narrativize and
to make characters of real-life
human beings.
But I think if our goal is
transparency — if our goal is to
actually understand artists or
celebrities for who they are — then
we ought to try to break down the
social barriers between fans and
their idols, between public figures
and their followers. We ought
to have be able to interact with
them in less strictly constructed
settings, where they will not shy
away from engaging with those
who have flocked to witness them.
Because in this kind of a space —
one in which people engage freely
and set aside the cultural currency
attached to their bodies, we get a
little bit closer to one another.
It takes courage. It takes both
parties trusting each other not to
humiliate or taunt. This is how
we should regard one another by
default. Just like I believe you,
the reader, to be decent enough
to know that I sweat, horribly,
humiliatingly,
disgustingly
without criticizing me. My body
gets exorbitantly wet. It does! And
that’s OK.
ISAIAH
ZEAVIN-MOSS
LAURA SCHINAGLE
Managing Editor
420 Maynard St.
Ann Arbor, MI 48109
tothedaily@michigandaily.com
Edited and managed by students at the University of Michigan since 1890.
SHOHAM GEVA
Editor in Chief
CLAIRE BRYAN
and REGAN DETWILER
Editorial Page Editors
Unsigned editorials reflect the official position of the Daily’s Editorial Board.
All other signed articles and illustrations represent solely the views of their authors.
Carolyn Ayaub
Claire Bryan
Regan Detwiler
Brett Graham
Caitlin Heenan
Jeremy Kaplan
Ben Keller
Minsoo Kim
Madeline Nowicki
Anna Polumbo-Levy
Jason Rowland
Ali Safawi
Kevin Sweitzer
Rebecca Tarnopol
Ashley Tjhung
Stephanie Trierweiler
EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS
Isaiah Zeavin-Moss can be reached
at izeavinm@umich.edu
DON’T KNOW WHAT A REGENT IS?
GOOGLE IT.
THEN TUNE IN TO OUR PODCAST.
For our fifth episode of The Michigan Daily’s Election
Podcast, columnist Brett Graham talks diversity, tuition
increases and campus climate with candidate for
University Regent Carl Meyers (R-Dearborn).
ROLAND DAVIDSON | COLUMN
From Baltimore to “Atlanta”
CJ MAYER | COLUMN
ROLAND
DAVIDSON
CJ
MAYER
CJ Mayer can be reached at
mayercj@umich.edu
W
hen
we
discuss
whether something
is
racist,
there’s
a sort of monolithism at play.
A leaf is green because we all
perceive it as such.
However, an object
or
institution’s
racist
character
depends on people’s
perception;
something
only
becomes
racist
once people decide
it is. Rather than
asking
whether
something is racist,
it’s more productive
to discuss whether
or not people find
it racist.
If you had to guess how many
Native Americans are bothered
by the name of the Washington
Redskins, what would you say?
Fifty
percent?
Seventy-five
percent? This issue has been at
the forefront of conversations
about social justice for years,
so it’s only logical to conclude
that this bothers a significant
portion of the Native American
community. A recent survey found
that 9 percent of Native Americans
polled find the name offensive.
This isn’t an argument that the
name is appropriate. If very few
Native Americans actually take
pride in the name, I don’t think
there are many (if any) compelling
reasons to keep it. But, this piece of
data goes to show how fickle our
perception of racism is.
In other policy domains, we can
see similar ways in which we’ve
essentialized the views of people of
color. Consider this recent pair of
surveys about racism in the United
States. In one conducted by CNN,
17 percent of Blacks polled viewed
the Confederate flag as a symbol of
Southern pride. In another by Pew,
36 percent of Blacks surveyed had
a “great deal” or “fair amount” of
confidence that local police treat
Blacks and whites equally. Neither
of these numbers is particularly
high, but they were both much
higher than I’d been led to believe
by leftist discourse.
Let’s be clear: Police brutality
is a serious issue — no two ways
about it. In that same Pew survey,
just 0.6 percent of Blacks expected
the police to use an appropriate
amount of force in a given scenario.
In regards to the Confederate flag,
73 percent of Blacks in the sample
said that it should be taken down
from
government
buildings.
Clearly, these are both pressing
issues that deserve action, but
it’s important not to create a one-
dimensional Black perspective to
advance social justice causes.
This sort of measured
stance
is
good
for
discourse, but bad for
advocacy.
Can
you
imagine
the
NAACP
saying that they speak
for 47.543259 (to use
an
arbitrary
number)
percent
of
Black
people? It would be a
catastrophe. They would
lose credibility in the
public
sphere.
These
well-intentioned
and
often effective groups —
whose efforts I agree with — seek
to institutionalize a limited version
of truth to suit their agenda.
A large part of an institution’s
power lies in its ability to convince
people that it best represents the
truth. To better understand the
relationship between truth and
power, it’s helpful to borrow from
Foucault’s theory of “regime of
truth.” To quickly reduce his
writing: What we conceive as
truth isn’t absolute; it’s influenced
politically and has an agenda. The
struggle for power in the public
sphere is based upon claiming
heir to truth. This isn’t to make
an argument that all truth is
totally relative, subjective and
individuated. It is possible to
create a universal theory; however,
we should not expect this to
come from our political arena.
As I previously discussed, groups
focused on political actions are less
concerned with representing the
whole truth than with convincing
the masses and policy makers that
their version of truth is correct.
Rather, we can use the arts as a
lens to construct these coherent,
comprehensive worldviews.
The television show “Atlanta”
is a good example of how art
can bolster our discourse. The
show has a clear political bent;
Donald Glover’s character often
acts as a proxy for the show’s
liberal audience. Additionally, it
has other aesthetic goals beyond
representation, such as humor
and drama. However, the show
does a lot of important work,
like not breaking police brutality
down into a simplistic Black-
white binary. Early in the series,
Paperboy, an aspiring rapper, is
leaving jail when a Black police
officer recognizes him and asks
for a photo. The officer poses with
Paperboy by holding his fingers
together in the shape of a gun;
the rapper is clearly nonplussed
by the officer’s lack of sensitivity.
As the two talk, the police officer
gleefully reveals that he arrested
famed Atlanta rapper Gucci Mane
and doesn’t connect the dots
between Gucci and Paperboy’s
similar plights.
In this short scene, “Atlanta”
demonstrates how people of color
are incorporated into systems
of oppression, which is an
important nuance often left out of
discourse about police brutality.
I
recall
some
conservative
commentators
claiming
that
race could not have played a role
in Freddie Gray’s murder due to
the fact some of the cops were
Black. This demonstrates just
one deleterious effect of leaving
out important nuances like these
in our public conversation.
Similarly, the show doesn’t
shy away from presenting how
prejudices, such as sexism and
homophobia, exist within the
Black community. These problems
exist in all communities, but they
morph depending upon their
social context. It’s important to
recognize that “Atlanta” is about
Atlanta and tells a specific story
that is underpinned by geographic,
cultural
and
socioeconomic
locations. Thus, we shouldn’t use it
as a synecdoche for Black America.
At the end of the day, this show
is a single data point, but it does
add important nuances to our
conversation and is accessible to a
wide audience in a way that other
discursive modes aren’t.
Discussions of race are often
based around the truth proffered
by civil rights groups, which are
extremely important, but don’t
represent the entire truth. They’ll
occlude facts and perspective that
don’t advance their goals. This
is true in all realms of policy. We
can’t fully understand the effects
of NAFTA solely by looking at
employment statistics. We need
to understand people’s narratives
and communities’ responses to
increasing globalization. If we
want to have a full conversation
about the issues in our world,
we can’t rely on purely political
sources of truth. Art like “Atlanta”
isn’t the only way to end the
discursive essentialism, nor is it
necessarily the best way, but it
provides an important first step.
Roland Davidson can be reached
at mhenryda@umich.edu