Votes at 16? Democracy Demands More Than Just Access
There’s something deeply aspirational about a democracy that wants to bring its youngest citizens into the fold — especially when it comes to the vote. The idea of 16-year-olds heading to the polls may sound like progress. Empowering. Inclusive. And yet, I can’t shake the feeling that this push to lower the voting age is more symbolic than substantial — a move driven less by principle and more by politics.
Let me be clear: I’m not against young people participating in democracy. In fact, I want them to. Desperately. But voting isn’t a trendy accessory you hand out to boost engagement — it’s a responsibility, and we do young people no favors by pretending they’re ready for it simply because it sounds fair.
Yes, there are 16-year-olds who are thoughtful, politically aware and more engaged than many adults. Some of them could probably argue circles around elected MPs. But we don’t make laws based on the exceptions — we make them based on the norm. And the norm, right now, is that most 16-year-olds are still figuring themselves out, under pressure from school exams, social media algorithms and a system that teaches them more about Pythagoras than Parliament.
When Keir Starmer invokes the tired argument that if young people can “work and pay taxes,” they should vote, he skips over the details. Most 16-year-olds are still in full-time education, not full-time employment. And as for taxes — sure, they pay VAT on a Coke, just like an 8-year-old does. That’s hardly a foundation for democratic participation.
Democracy Begins in the Classroom, Not the Voting Booth
More importantly, we’ve done almost nothing to prepare this age group for the responsibility we want to give them. Where is the mandatory civic education in schools? Where is the curriculum that explains local councils, manifestos or the role of an MP? We’re asking teenagers to participate in a system they’ve barely been introduced to. It’s like giving someone a steering wheel and calling them a driver.
If Starmer truly wants to build a “social contract” with Gen Z, it can’t begin at the ballot box. It has to start in classrooms, communities and homes. It means protecting young people from the relentless manipulation of tech giants — not cozying up to them. It means regulating the platforms that are shaping young minds with more influence than any civics teacher could dream of. It means equipping them not just to vote, but to think.
Scotland and Wales offer some insights. When they lowered the voting age to 16 for their elections, turnout among young people was decent — initially. But novelty fades. Engagement, without education and empowerment, doesn’t last. And the idea that all young people lean left, ready to carry Labour to victory, is naïve at best. TikTok is a breeding ground for both radical progressivism and sharp-edged conservatism. The assumption that youth equals liberal is out of date.
Still, let’s not dismiss the potential here. Young people are more aware than ever. They care about climate change, mental health, inequality — issues many adults ignore. Giving them a voice matters. But it should be a voice informed, not reactive. Conscious, not performative.
So here’s the deal: if we’re serious about votes at 16, let’s be equally serious about civic education. Let’s treat political literacy as vital as numeracy. Let’s regulate social media like the public sphere it has become. And let’s give young people the tools to understand the system they’re being asked to shape — not just the ballot paper.
Until then, votes at 16 feel more like a political PR move than a genuine commitment to youth empowerment. A right as sacred as the vote should be earned — not by jumping through hoops, but by being equipped to use it well. Anything less isn’t empowerment. It’s abandonment wrapped in virtue.
And frankly, Gen Z deserves better than that.
