First published in Eureka Street on 20 August 2010.
At local markets, shopping centres and polling places we stand shivering in the cold. All is quiet until a stranger approaches with a grim, resigned expression, looking at their watch or cursing the weather. They avoid our gaze until the last moment, looking up briefly and maybe acknowledging our smiles and 'Good morning!'s, then slowing as we descend upon them, three or four of us reaching out to stuff papers into their retreating hands.
Most take how-to-vote cards from each of us, then lower their gaze and hurry into the polling place. Others will look at one of us knowingly, winking or giving a pat on the back before leaving. For that one moment, we feel part of something bigger. That moment differentiates us from the telemarketer or street-corner spruiker, and it is enough to warm our hearts and convince us to stick around for another hour making awkward conversation with the volunteers of other parties.
It may surprise 'normal' people to learn that many campaign volunteers have no political ambitions of our own, and stand to gain nothing from the time and labour we donate. Nor are we all starry-eyed university students who have yet to reach an inevitable disillusionment. We're just ordinary folk who believe wholeheartedly in the value of our democracy and the virtue of our party.
Admittedly, this is an election in which it is hard to mount a high horse brandishing party colours. But to us the party is more than a collection of election promises and slogans. It is this that compels us to brave the cold (and occasionally abuse from strangers) in its support.
Even in the safest seats you'll find volunteers at train stations from 5am, declaring the virtues of a candidate they may never have met, all to lose by a lesser margin than last time. Are we mad? Probably. So why do we so covet a vote that you may have little interest in? Especially when it may result in no tangible benefit to our party?
The answer is simple. Party members, like zombies, only want you for your brains.
Let's not kid ourselves. Sometimes, in a safe seat like the one I grew up in, your vote serves absolutely no purpose. The other guy is getting in. You can claim that you're 'sending a message', but the MP doesn't care about your message, as long as