Brown’s student government has an apathy problem. Multiple elections have been beset by low turnout, uncontested races for key positions and mishandling of election procedure, prompting criticism that the Student Government Association has failed to provide students with competent representation. Sluggish elections have produced sluggish governments: Instead of attempting to cut through the fatigue and reach students with confident calls to action, last year’s Undergraduate Council of Students rolled out an ill-timed referendum that didn’t engage students so much as confuse them. Brown’s elections need to be refreshed, and I think a novelty candidate could do just that. To put it more precisely, our elections need you to put a giant trash can on your head.
A novelty candidate is a person — or alien, or iceberg or stack of beloved diner staples — who runs in elections as a form of political satire or protest. A favorite across the pond is Count Binface, a self-styled “intergalactic space warrior” from the planet Sigma IX and archrival of British politician Nigel Farage. Hailing from closer to home is Vermin Supreme, an artist and activist who wears a boot on his head and has run for the presidency on the promise of free ponies for all. Done right, a Brown-themed novelty candidate has the potential to inject all the right kinds of intrigue into our tired student government.
To do novelty candidacy right, we must draw a bold and clear line between cynical mockery and political satire. The former depresses turnout by sending the message that elections are a farce, while the latter stimulates political participation by using humor to engage critical thinking about the status quo, sending the message that voting does matter. Further, political satire enhances voters’ retention of information, meaning witty platforms have a greater chance of sticking around in Brunonians’ busy brains. Voters are also more likely to share political information framed in humorous ways with other voters, which can enhance campus-wide discussion and debate of candidates’ platforms.
Unlike comic but unrealistic promises such as yearlong summer break, zany promises with factual spine can point to discontents deserving of solutions. Count Binface, for instance, ran on a platform of “building at least one affordable house and capping croissants at £1.10,” using droll humor to point up the British voting public’s concern with rising costs of living. Think of today’s hot-button campus issues: mini fridges, free speech concerns, the Sciences Library’s slashed hours or even the SGA’s election process itself. Then, try and put a witty bite on the solution that draws people’s attention to the direness of the issue. Example: “As President of UCS, I promise to radically expand spaces for conservative discourse from area untouched by sun under one dying tree to two dying trees.” The outlandishness of your novelty persona will carry the joke the rest of the way. The goal? Locking a student’s attention on the fact that her student representatives have the power to make change, and that she holds in her hand — or the footprint of her Qualtrics poll — the power to mandate them to do so.
While the novelty candidate will surely generate buzz for themselves, student government as a whole will benefit from being in the candidate’s vicinity. Many student candidates use Instagram to launch their bids for election. Say less — the novelty candidate is on that. The possibilities here are pretty endless. For instance, the novelty candidate’s Instagram could be used to draw attention to a webpage listing all candidates’ platforms, and humorously engage with points raised by other candidates, highlighting the cogency — or the inanity — of their campaign promises through contrast. All campaign promises could gain exposure, and promises would be subjected to greater scrutiny as a result. By taking on the role of nattily dressed digital town crier, the novelty candidate can help undergraduate elections prioritize innovative and actionable ideas over marketing tacks.
All that’s left to do, then, is crown a novelty candidate fit for Brown’s campus, culture and history. While I’m not averse to the idea of a rotating crop of topical kooks, I think that to assure greater longevity and student engagement, Brown would be best served by one legacy figure who establishes themselves as an institution in student elections. In doing so, they would make themselves — and, by extension, the healthy habit of voting — an integral part of Brown’s culture. And I don’t think we need to look much further than 201 Thayer St.
The SciLi is perhaps Brown’s most controversial institution. Some students call it “effervescent” when the light hits it right. Others, like my colleague Avery Kaak ’29, think it’s plain ugly. But despite its polarizing reputation, the SciLi is here to stay for many more election cycles to come, by virtue of its being rooted to the earth with rebar and concrete in a very — some would say too — prominent location on campus. Such willingness to embrace controversy, to put oneself out there every day in the face of criticism, is a quality which Brown needs in its inaugural novelty candidate. I endorse SciLi Supreme for UCS President, not in the hopes that it will win ballots but in the hopes that it will encourage thought. And when I see you at the polls (fill out the Google Form), we’ll know that the SciLi has succeeded.
Chandler Ahn ’29 can be reached at geumbee_ahn@brown.edu. Please send responses to this column to letters@browndailyherald.com and other opinions to opinions@browndailyherald.com.
