When less is more

I wrote yesterday that there are, in fact, things in Puerto Rico that we do very well. Friendships, for example.

And also…

…elections.

OK, one or two caveats. First, politics is the national sport of Puerto Rico. Why? Well, about a third of the population works for the government. According to the governor, the current size of the government is 120,000 people. Walmart, Puerto Rico’s largest employer, has 14,000 employees. So who wins an election means rice and beans—or calling in on your friends at 6PM every day.

Second caveat. Convicts vote.


Yup, here’s a photo!

OK, that’s screwy to me. But there’s one thing I’m sure of. The referendum we had yesterday? The one to limit bail for certain crimes and reduce the size of our legislature?

Both lost soundly. And nobody doubts it. That fact alone is amazing.

“Of course the Republicans stole the recall election of Scott Walker,” said my friend Gary.

And he may be right. I googled the issue. And discovered that the makers of the newest, high-tech voting machines? The three largest are owned by rabid Republicans. Worse, the technology is so high tech that it’s virtually impossible to understand the whole process without spending days doing so.

But with just a few exceptions, elections in Puerto Rico are immaculate.

Why?

We do low tech.

Here’s the process. Every voter must have a voting card, issued by the State Elections Commission. Election day is a holiday—a paid day off. The governor puts the dry law into effect. Your only activity for the day is to vote.

You go to the polls, and present your card. There are representatives of the three largest political parties on the island. The person holding your card verifies that your name is on the rolls. He or she announces your name, and the page number. You sign next to your name. You’re given a paper ballot and a pen. You go into a flimsy cardboard affair resembling an empty refrigerator box and mark your vote. Exit, and cast your vote in a cardboard urn.

Before doing all this, somebody has examined your hands for ultraviolet ink. Because after voting, you put your right index finger into the ink.

After the polls close, all three members of the different parties are put into a locked room. They each examine the ballots, determine the vote, sign off on the results.

It’s possible, I suppose, to cheat. But it’s pretty hard to imagine how. And nobody, today, has questioned the results. The governor, who very much sponsored the referendum, admitted defeat. The press hasn’t breathed a word of doubt. And on an island where conspiracy theory and cynicism abound, everybody agrees. It was a clean as it could be.

So why can’t it be done in the States?

Canada does it—here’s WikiPedia:

All votes are made on the same standard heavy paper ballot which is inserted in a cardboard box, furnished by Elections Canada. The ballot and the box are devised to ensure that no one except the elector knows the individual choice that was made. Counting the ballots is done by hand in full view of the representatives of each candidate. There are no mechanical, electrical or electronic systems involved in this process.

It can’t be, can it, that some people don’t want a clean election?