A political manifesto is, in many ways, the ultimate sales pitch. It’s the shiny box on the shelf of democracy, wrapped in patriotic colours and marked with bold promises like “Build Back Better!” or “Save the Economy Now!”
People examine this box, shake it, and think, “Well, this sounds promising!” So, they take it to the electoral checkout counter, cast their votes, and wait for the glorious product to arrive. But what happens when the box arrives, and inside it is… nothing? Or worse, a half-deflated balloon labelled “Tax Increase.”
Now, let’s talk fraud. If you bought a toaster because it was advertised as “self-cleaning,” you’d expect it to clean itself, right? You’d feel pretty cheated if it turned out the toaster didn’t even toast properly, let alone clean itself. And what’s more, the company behind it smirks at you and says, “Oh, that was just a vision. We never promised it would work.” You’d march back to the store and demand your money back because, thankfully, consumer laws are on your side. Misleading product claims are a big no-no in the world of commerce.
Now, apply this same logic to a political manifesto. Before elections, parties roll out manifestos with promises that sound like guarantees. “Free healthcare for all!” “Lower taxes and higher wages!” “Cheaper avocados!” These aren’t just casual suggestions; they’re crafted with the precision of a luxury car ad.
People don’t vote out of idle curiosity—they vote because they believe in the benefits being sold to them. But after the election, if the shiny promises transform into statements like, “Well, we meant free healthcare someday…maybe,” it starts to look an awful lot like the political version of a toaster that doesn’t toast.
Here’s where it gets funnier (or sadder, depending on your sense of humour). In politics, you can’t just march back to the ballot box with your receipt and say, “I’d like a refund on this government, please.” Politicians get away with broken promises by wrapping them in phrases like “unforeseen challenges” or “evolving priorities.” Try pulling that at the store. “I know I said I wanted a vacuum cleaner, but my priorities have evolved, and I’ve decided I’d prefer to keep my money.” See how that works out.
The deeper absurdity lies in accountability. If a company misleads consumers, it faces lawsuits, fines, and a PR nightmare. Politicians, however, often face little more than a few tough interviews, followed by another campaign where they promise to fix the mess they made last time. Imagine buying a car that doesn’t run, only to have the dealership tell you, “Don’t worry, buy another one next year—this time we’ll get it right!”
At its core, unfulfilled political manifestos and misleading product advertisements aren’t that different. Both involve presenting a reality that doesn’t exist to convince people to part with something valuable—whether it’s money or votes. Yet the justice system is kinder to politicians, likely because they were the ones who wrote it. Meanwhile, the rest of us are left holding metaphorical toasters, wondering how we got duped again.
Now, #DirectDemocracy on the other hand, is like giving the people their own toolbox to fix what politicians break. In Switzerland, if the government strays too far from the promises it made—or worse, enacts something wildly unpopular—citizens can step in and say, “Hold on a second, let’s take this to the shop ourselves.” Through mechanisms like referendums and initiatives, they can essentially veto bad ideas or propose better ones. It’s like being able to demand a refund on a toaster and design your own improved version, complete with a croissant warmer.
Of course, even direct democracy isn’t perfect (occasionally there are some bizarre initiatives that get proposed?), but it does something remarkable: it restores balance. It reminds politicians that they’re public servants, not sales reps with immunity from buyer’s remorse. It gives voters a sense of control, and let’s face it, nothing beats the satisfaction of telling the political equivalent of a sleazy vacuum salesman, “Thanks, but no thanks.”
So, what’s the takeaway here? Simple: maybe we should start demanding receipts for our votes. Or at least some sort of “satisfaction guaranteed” clause in political manifestos. Until then, we’re stuck in the peculiar position of being consumers in a marketplace where the sellers aren’t required to deliver. And if nothing else, it makes us appreciate the simple honesty of a store clerk who just wants to sell us a toaster that actually toasts. 😂
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