Recalling the political fervor surrounding the gay-marriage issue last autumn, and with no desire to wait in a long line again this year, I requested that a Brunswick absentee ballot be sent to my Smith Union box early this year.

Because I did not grow up in Maine, some would argue that it's undemocratic for me to send in my ballot to the town clerk. Perhaps they have a point, since it's true that I won't be paying taxes in Maine in the foreseeable future. Yet at the end of the day, the basic reason we have a republic—and that is what we have, democratic pretensions aside—is to the let the people decide who makes decisions on their behalf. However we define "the people," it is still the decision of whom to elect that matters.

With this perhaps idealized view of the voting process glowing comfortingly in my mind, I tore open my absentee ballot. The warm sentiments soon turned to cold ashes when I found that as a Brunswick voter, I had absolutely no choice over who got half the jobs that were nominally voter-selected. The politics of Brunswick are hardly of national importance, but as even temporary residents of Brunswick, it is highly likely that the local representative to state legislature, judge of probate, county treasurer, register of deeds, sheriff or district attorney will make decisions that impact the College, and thus our lives.

And yet, staring unhappily at the card in my hands, I was given no input whatsoever into who would take those positions. Only one person was standing for election for each of them. What is the point of making a fuss about who should be voting in a district when their input into the democratic process counts for naught?

When I first showed people my ballot in disgust, the responses I received correlated exactly with where each respective person was from. Individuals from cities and more populous towns were shocked along with me; it's a completely foreign idea to us that there would only be one candidate for a town position. Some even found it rather insulting that they would print ballots with only one choice on them.

But those from rural areas and small towns like Brunswick were bemused that I found it at all strange.

"Of course there's only one candidate, why would anyone else run?" was the canned response.

On one occasion, I was given a lecture about how political parties often don't operate in a district if they think it isn't worth the money. As far as money in politics goes, such a view strikes me as horribly cynical. Forget K-street lobbyists—a party is simply telling us that as residents of Brunswick, we're not worth its money. As much distaste as many of us might have for party politics, it's certainly better to be included in them than told by a party that we're not worth the bother.

So this is the state of democracy in small-town America. I had always assumed that there would be people clamoring to run for office all across America. Democracy is—in the words of a thousand patriotic ideologues—what makes America great: Standing for election is one way to show one's dedication to this country.

At all the schools that I've attended, Bowdoin included, there is almost always competition for even the most trivial of elected positions. Even the possibility of serving in a role such as Bowdoin Student Government (BSG) representative to facilities is enough to spark people to get out, make posters, and campaign enthusiastically to a perfectly indifferent electorate. It seems that the position of class president at a tiny liberal arts school actually attracts more fervor and enthusiasm than the position of sheriff in a medium-sized town. And when you consider how much excitement BSG generates among the student body, this is surely a dire state of affairs.

Before we go pointing fingers at the behavior of college students and voters in general for being undemocratic, it's important to take a look at the system as a whole. When there isn't a choice to make, does it really matter who ticks the box or fills in the arrow? If there is a problem with democracy in Maine, it's not found on the side of the voters who aren't being given a choice. I would usually be loathe to suggest that the real world resembles student government in any way; however, perhaps what small-town America needs is a bit of innocent enthusiasm.

First year students often come to Bowdoin thinking that by being class president they can change the world. Wouldn't it be nice if those with even a little bit of power to change their towns for the better thought the same?