This election, I’ve found I care about these things – and that we can still shape them

Letters from a Swing Voter

Three months ago, I made a decision. If this election is going to be as significant as people were telling me, then I wanted to be a part of it. My story was similar to thousands of others – family history of voting in a proscribed way, electoral inexperience, and the war-weary backdrop of a country with too many internal battles on its hands. Labour has a good deal to be ashamed of, but for me their biggest loss is that they allowed a generation of voters to become despondent and disenfranchised. I don’t write that lightly, because I was both of those things.

LabourList has been my home since then, allowing me the space to voice the thoughts of someone undecided about who, or what, should take the UK forward. Some of you said my choice was a simple one; some of you implied it was already made; some of you encouraged me to take my search beyond the electronic walls of the internet and into the homes of other voters; some of you revealed your own experiences, diverse, rich and inspiring, sometimes without realising how much you were letting on; some of you said one thing but meant another; some of you said exactly what you meant; some of you liked what I wrote; some of you didn’t. All of you validated why I did any of this to begin with: you reminded me that I care, and that not caring – quite frankly – isn’t ever good enough.

I’ll be honest, I’ve learnt a hell of a lot in the past ten weeks. Wikipedia has taken a bit of a battering, as has my work-twitter-blog-rolling-news ratio, and I’m probably the only person in my area to have seen our resident MP speak in person enough times to perhaps warrant some sort of restraining order. At times it’s been a bit much and I’ve had the occasional meltdown, like when I forgot whether Cameron was his first or last name, and when I became fixated by the creepy coincidence that Gordon Brown was also the colour you get if you mix all three main political colours together. But aside from the hysteria, I’ve learnt a lot about what’s important to me. Crucially, this election won’t just be about who I am, but who I want to become, and I’ve spent the past few months looking at the policies which will shape the decisions I make about how I live my life, the career and the family I hope to have, and how it’s going to be paid for. Again, my story will be similar to thousands, if not millions, of others.

To that end, many pledges don’t wash, such as marriage tax credits, or Swedish-style free schools, or tepid carbon commitments in an increasingly hotter world. Many need repeating, Sure Start is an excellent example, as is the ongoing commitment to eliminate UK child poverty in the next 10 years. And some start to show the pinprick of light at the end of a tunnel graffitied in scandal, dogma, inequality and weakness, such as matched paternity leave, guarantees for the young unemployed, a raised income tax threshold, and some fundamental constitutional reform. I care about these things, I care because they are within our grasp to change them. I care because they are part of my story.

It’s too glib to draw neat comparisons to our American friends, when the world shifted on its axis in 2008 – we are politically different for historic and important reasons. But we have a lot to thank them for, televised debates included, about the importance of the individual story. You could spin them, sell them, market them, dirty them, but the real-life experiences of the voting masses were the leitmotif of the Obama campaign, and they have become increasingly a defining part of our election too, for good or for bad. Let’s make it for good.

So now, we are all storytellers, and this was mine. In some respects, it will be similar to yours, and to those of my friends and family. But in many other, more important, ways it will be chapters apart from voters up and down the country, people whose lives are filled with vastly different hopes and priorities. On Thursday, I will make a decision, just like you and like them, and together we will vote. We vote because we can, because too many lives are lost giving people that most basic of rights. We vote because we have a choice, because we recognise it’s not perfect but it’s the first step towards change. We vote because we should, because we have no right to criticise a system we’ve not participated in. We vote because we give a damn, because acting on our beliefs is the most important thing we can ever do. We vote, because we make it part of our story.

And as for my vote? For now, dear readers, that will remain as anonymous as I have been. That particular story hasn’t ended, quite yet. But whatever happens, it’s been a great ride. I’ll see you on the other side.