VI. CONCLUSIONS
Disfranchisement of people with criminal convictions is not the democratic norm. Many nations which share the same Western philosophical foundations as the United States – and the same interests in reducing crime and strengthening republican self-government – have opted for dramatically different policies, often including full voting rights for inmates. This report has emphasized three central conclusions:
• First, while European policies vary, the vast majority of western European states either insist on full voting rights for all inmates, or apply disfranchisement in a very limited way. While there are disagreements among European states in this area, those disagreements tend to stop at the prison walls, as it were. Certainly, some other democracies do bar some people with criminal convictions from voting. But their existence actually weakens the case for American-style restrictions, because their policies differ dramatically from those now in place in the United States. In those several western European nations where disfranchisement is policy, it is usually applied only narrowly and selectively, to a small number of crimes and criminals. It is publicly imposed, often at the sentencing judge’s discretion. And while hard numbers are difficult to come by, it appears that these policies disqualify a relative handful of voters – while American restrictions remove millions from the rolls.
• Second, those high courts in peer democracies that have examined disfranchisement policies have rejected them on philosophical, pragmatic, and, occasionally, racial grounds. And after some predictable but low-key grumbling by
politicians, all levels of government, including corrections and elections staff, have complied with these rulings. Significantly, neither the security of elections nor prison safety has been threatened in any way – in any country.
• Third, some of the most significant international treaty bodies have criticized blanket disfranchisement policies – in one case, directly and specifically rejecting U.S. policies for their “breadth and duration,” their racial effects and their coverage of such a wide range of offenses. The unpopularity of criminal disfranchisement among the world’s advanced democracies should reverse the terms of the ongoing debate over the policy here in the United States. Disfranchisement’s defenders – including those who advocate barring people with felony convictions from voting even after they’ve left prison – give the impression that universal suffrage would threaten the very foundations of western democratic thought and destroy our criminal-justice system. Barring these people from voting, the policy’s defenders argue, is just common sense. In fact, it is not common in any sense. American disfranchisement policies are unlike those of any other advanced democracy, and are increasingly at odds with modern understandings of international law. These facts shift the burden of proof, as it were, to those who would continue automatic, mass disfranchisement in the United States. Pointing vaguely at political theory is no longer enough. Given how unusual the policy is, we should ask whether it is necessary to fulfill some exceptional need. What particular evil does it address?
The policy’s defenders have never satisfactorily answered these simple, practical questions. It is neither hyperbole nor subversion to say that a decent respect for the opinions of mankind requires Americans to take a hard look at whether mass disfranchisement is truly necessary to prevent crime and strengthen our democracy. In fact, it accomplishes neither objective.