This article discusses how the recession is awakening political interest among traditionally disengaged youth voters. It profiles several college students at the University of New Hampshire who are registering to vote for the first time, driven by concerns over lack of jobs and economic opportunity upon graduating. While these new voters have little political knowledge and can't name recent presidents, they feel compelled to vote to enact change due to their grim economic realities. A group called Rock the Vote is working to boost youth turnout through fun registration drives linked to music and entertainment. The long term impact of bringing a new bloc of young voters into the political process remains to be seen.

1. Recession Awakening The Youth Vote
In N.H.
By Dick Polman, INQUIRER STAFF WRITER
POSTED: FEBRUARY 17, 1992
DURHAM, N.H. — It's a very funky haircut, a cross between New Wave 1990s and Fabian 1950s, and
somehow it belongs on top of Ben Zipkin's head. Just check out his list of heroes:
"OK, Bob Guccione Jr., the editor of Spin magazine, and he never went to
college or anything? And George Foreman. It's so great, how he made a boxing comeback, and he's got
this diet where he eats hamburgers and fried chicken? And Simon Wiesenthal, who catches Nazis. And
Lou Reed, because don't you think he's so deep? And Eric Bogosian, the actor. He's not afraid to say that
America stinks and that it's time to change things."
But here's Zipkin, a sophomore at the University of New Hampshire, holding court in the cafeteria at a
time when presidential candidates are swarming all over campus, and he can't name a single political
hero.
"A generation ago, you had Kennedy," said Zipkin. "A generation before that, Roosevelt. But who do we
have, huh?"
Only 36 percent of eligible citizens ages 18 to 24 showed up for the last presidential election. That group's
turnout rate has dropped in every election since the voting age was lowered in 1971. The so-called youth
vote had become a slumbering beast.
But now, in the early weeks of the campaign season, the eyelids are flickering. And there is hunger in the
belly - a hunger for change, an inchoate cry for a new agenda.
Even Zipkin, who'd prefer to be grooving to the music of Primal Scream, is turned on by the notion of
voting in 1992 for one simple reason - the recession. The real world, rarely an intruder in this rustic
nirvana, is becoming an obsession to these children of the Reagan-Bush era.
In Zipkin's words, "I think about it every day. What'll I do when I graduate? Like, will there be a job for me?
My dad's in the scrap-metal business, so would I have to work there? Nothing is open, and it's scary. You
look at the way this country is going, and you decide, hey, not voting is a cop-out. If something's bad,
what, are you just going to let it be bad?"
These days, students here are asking one another, "Have you registered to vote?" This is not the
traditional talk of UNH students. Until recently, the far more usual question was, "Were you loaded last
night?" Then reality struck close to home - one of the best local bars went out of business,
because fewer students had money to spend on getting loaded.
Enter a group called Rock the Vote. A national, nonpartisan organization founded by the recording
industry, Rock the Vote could prove to be a wild card in the '92 race. Seeking to boost nationwide turnout
among young voters, organizers have swarmed across New Hampshire campuses this winter, and now
claim to have registered 10,000 young people - 2,000 in Durham alone.
"Young people have an important role to play in politics, but somehow that message has been lost on this
generation," said UNH organizer Jim Hickman. ''We've got to drop more young people back into the
system. The reason that Iran-contra and the S&L scandals exist is because decision-makers only listen to

2. those in the electorate who understand the game. By changing that equation, young voters can shift the
political agenda."
This isn't to say that 1960s idealism is back, because it's not. The mood is far more downbeat.
"We're at the tail end of a very materialistic time, but we don't yet know what we're at the beginning of,"
said senior Marie Garland. Her mother, an interior decorator in northern New Hampshire, used to have
four employees; now she's down to one part-timer.
"We're seeing middle-class people become working class," she said. "If you vote, maybe you'll get
someone who won't screw things up as bad."
A pause, then a sheepish grin.
"Does that sound pessimistic, or what?"
She's hardly alone. Sophomore Kathleen McCauley, with her faded jeans and long blond mane, evokes
the '70s earth-mother look, but her complaints were very un-mellow.
"I don't feel like I live in a democracy," she said. "I mean, what do I have control over? I want to be an
herb farmer, but all the farmers are going under. I'll probably end up in a big factory making chemicals. It's
like it's almost impossible for people to go after their dreams anymore. We're turning into a country of
serfs and kings, with nothing in between. Which is why I have to vote. In case it does matter, I want to
make things happen."
Hickman boasts of a "swing voting bloc" in the primary tomorrow, but the evidence argues against it. First,
young people still have to show up at the polls. (Hickman is running a shuttle from campus to town hall.)
Second, they'd have to vote en masse for one candidate - but nobody fills the bill. And third, the under-25
college vote amounted to roughly 1 percent of the New Hampshire turnout in 1988. So even a boomlet
might not make a dent.
But it's the long run that matters most. Take Diane Duquette. She never cared about politics. She'd just as
soon get into pajamas at 9:30, climb into bed and watch an episode of Coach, as she did the other night.
But now her father, a self-employed contractor in Manchester, isn't getting work. And she finds herself
four months from graduation.
An aspiring kindergarten teacher, she signed up as a voter this winter
because "I can't sit by and watch everything fall apart. I won't have a job, I won't have health insurance, I
won't have any kind of life. There are 10 people on my floor whose fathers have been out of work for a
year.
"For years, people my age didn't (vote), and look where it got us. And you know, it's nice to have
intelligent conversation about politics. It's nice to have a clue."
But the question is, how much of a clue? It turns out that many of these budding citizens have minimal
knowledge of history and current events. A recent Times-Mirror study concluded that today's young adults
know less than any comparable generation in the last 50 years.
It's too early to tell how this dearth of context will affect their decisions as voters. All we've got now is the
raw evidence, as Duquette cheerfully conceded.
"I was asking my boyfriend some simple things," she said. "Like, did Eisenhower come before Nixon? Up
until a week ago, I didn't know who was president before Carter. It was Nixon, right? Before he resigned?"
No, she was told, it was Gerald Ford.

3. "Oh," she said. "And remember when Harkin was here (last week), and said he was in the 'Truman
tradition'? I don't even know when Truman was in (office). I just know it was some time in the '50s or '60s,
right? But listen, there's a girl on my floor, so help me, who thought World War I started in 1863."
Or take sophomore Ryan Mercer, another new voter. The other night, he was massaging his bare feet at
Alpha Gamma Rho. He'd just run in a marathon, to raise money for leukemia. A frat brother died of the
disease in 1974, and Mercer sleeps in the guy's room. Brothers say the room is haunted. Frankly, the
ghost is more real to Mercer than the roll call of recent candidates.
A young Michael Keaton in voice and face, he shrugs them off with a burst of patter: "Jimmy Carter?
Peanut farmer, and kind of a funny-looking guy. Reagan? I think he was running against the Ferraro
woman, and what was the guy's name? I forget. Began with a D, I think . . . Mondale, right. He was a
goofy-looking guy, too. Don't remember anything he said, specifically."
Under the circumstances, it's easy to understand Rock the Vote's philosophy: Don't waste time telling
students that voting is good for them, like spinach. Instead, link voting to their predominant interests -
namely, partying. And so it came to pass that new UNH voters were given free concert tickets, tickets to
the premiere of Wayne's World (a film about two apolitical teenage geeks), tickets to a dance party hosted
by spandex-clad celebrities
from MTV.
Mercer, for one, declared the whole thing to be bogus.
"It's bribing kids to do what they should do by themselves," he scoffed. ''In other countries, people shoot
each other for the right to vote. What're they going to give away next, cars?"
"OK," countered senior Jim Manning, a defender of Rock the Vote. "What's wrong with making voting fun?
One candle can light many fires."
A serious young man in blue shirt and flowered tie, Manning poked at his chicken parmigiana as he
groped for the best words to sum up the hopes and fears of his generation.
"My parents had prosperity and heroes. We want something like that for ourselves. We can't afford to look
backwards, to Kennedy or Reagan or anyone like that. We're looking for our own, because of this fear we
have of imminent disaster. You know what? The '90s could make the '60s look like the '50s."
A big grin split his baby face. "Guess who said that? Dennis Hopper, in one of his movies. He's a hero of
mine. The guy is just awesome."
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