Since the debate over this proposal is likely to be heated, it is worth pointing out that the secret ballot is a more recent invention than is commonly recognized. In colonial Virginia, for example, most voting was done in public. Consider, for example, this passage from one of the best studies of pre-Revolutionary Virginia, Charles Sydnor’s American Revolutionaries in the Making: Political Practices in Washington's Virginia (Univ. Of North Carolina, 1952), p. 29, describing a particularly tense Congressional election in 1799 (found search of book on Amazon):
An even more colorful description of that same election (a source apparently used by Sydnor) appears in this
Three Cheers for Clopton
Politics today, is at best, child’s play compared to elections of the past. In 1799 an election was held in Richmond which has been described as, “animated,” and the “most pugnacious election day Richmond had ever seen.” Of course, a Clopton was right in the middle of it. But first we must set the stage.
John Clopton was a staunch supporter of his kinsman, Thomas Jefferson. He was elected as a Republican to the United States Congress for the Richmond District, in 1795. By 1799, American commerce was suffering greatly because trade between both France and England had been virtually suspended thanks to the war raging between Napoleon and Great Britain. First Britain declared the ports of Europe, under the control of France, in a state of blockage, and authorized the capture of American vessels bound to those ports. The French countered by declaring Britain to be in a state of blockade, commerce suspended, and just for good measure, forbid the introduction of any English goods into Europe. The English retaliated by declaring the entire coast of Europe in a state of blockage, and prohibited all neutral countries from trading with the Continent. Not to be outdone, Napoleon issued his Milan Decree which confiscated not only the vessels belonging to neutral countries which dared to land at any English port, their captains must permit their ships to be searched.
This caused much excitement throughout the land, giving all the politicians an excuse to jump down each other’s throat. The coming election represented a huge struggle of the first American political machine to come into being. Thomas Jefferson, chieftain of those who today are known as Democrats, with John Clopton one of his leading lieutenants, was its master mind. George Washington, was determined to stop this from happening.
A reluctant John Marshall, a member of the Federalist Party and former Minister to France, was browbeaten for four days by George Washington into running against John Clopton for the 6th Congress in 1799. The campaign, characterized as “one of the most acrimonious,” generated heated debates in gazettes, pamphlets, and private letters intended to be passed from hand to hand. Every tavern and social event was dominated with talk of the Clopton-Marshall campaign. Marshall was never too hopeful he would win. He wrote to his brother, James Markham Marshall that the fate of his election was extremely uncertain.
There were no precinct elections at that time. All eligible voters within a county assembled at the court house, and the crowds were often large.
Late in April the election was held. A witness of that event in Richmond tells of the incidents of the voting which were stirring even for that period of turbulent politics. A long, broad table or bench was placed on the Court-House Green, and upon it the local magistrates, acting as election judges, took their seats, their clerks before them. By the side of the judges sat the two candidates for Congress; an when an elector declared his preference for either, the favored one rose, bowing, and thanked his supporter.
Nobody but freeholders could then exercise the suffrage in Virginia. Any one owning one hundred acres of land or more in any county could vote, and this landowner could declare his choice in every county in which he possessed the necessary real estate. The voter did not cast a printed or written ballot, but merely stated, in the presence of the two candidates, the election officials, and the assembled gathering, the name of the candidate of his preference. There was no specified form for this announcement. [This method of electing public officials was continued until the Civil War.]
“I vote for John Marshall.”
“Thank you sir,” said the lank, easy-mannered Federalist candidate.
“Hurrah for Marshall!” shouted the compact band of Federalists.
“And I vote for Clopton,” cried another freeholder.
“May you live a thousand years, my friend,” said Marshall’s competitor.
“Three cheers for Clopton!” roared the crowd of Republican enthusiasts.
Both Republican and Federalist leaders had seen to it that nothing was left undone which might bring victory to their respective candidates. The two political parties had been carefully “drilled to move together in a body.” Each party had a business committee which attended to every practical detail of the election. Not a voter was overlooked. “Sick men were taken in their beds to the polls; the halt, the lame, and the blind were hunted up and every mode of conveyance was mustered into service.” Time and again the vote was a tie. No sooner did one freeholder announce his preference for Marshall than another gave his suffrage to Clopton.
“A barrel of whisky with the head knocked in,” free for everybody, stood beneath a tree, and “the majority took it straight,” runs a narrative of a witness of the scene. So hot became the contest that fist-fights were frequent. During the afternoon, knock-down and drag-out affrays became so general that the county justices had hard work to quell the raging partisans. Throughout the day the shouting and huzzaing rose in volume as the whiskey sank in the barrel. At times the uproar was “perfectly deafening; men were shaking fists at each other, rolling up their sleeves, cursing and swearing. . . . Some became wild with agitation.” When a tie was broken by a new voter shouting that he was for Marshall or for Clopton, insults were hurled at his devoted head.
“You sir, ought to have your mouth smashed,” cried an enraged Republican when Thomas Rutherford voted for Marshall; and smashing of mouths, blacking of eyes, and breaking of heads there were in plenty.
Many ministers felt it was their duty to preach politics in and out of the pulpit, and threw themselves into the fray with much enthusiasm. But two Richmond ministers, the Rev. Buchanan, an Episcopal priest, and the Rev. Blair, a Presbyterian, shared the opinion that men of the cloth should refrain from publicly discussing political controversies.
As the hours dragged on, and first Mr. Marshall leading by a vote or two, and then John Clopton making up the gap, the committees examined their lists to find those who had not yet voted. It was soon discovered that our good pastors had not appeared to vote, despite hourly pleas to do so. Desperate, some of the most influential members of the Federal committee found them together at Pastor Blair’s home, and proceeded to beg them to vote; that the “salvation of the party depended upon it, and the great interests of the party depended upon it.”
Eventually the two were worn down and escorted to the court house, were elbowed and squeezed through an increasingly wild and agitated crowd, up to the polls.
The crowd rolled to and fro like a surging wave. Parson Blair came forward. A swaggering fellow just above him said, “Here comes two preachers, dead shot for Marshall.” Both candidates knew them intimately, and rose from their seats, and the shout was terrific.
“Mr. Blair,” said the sheriff, “who do you vote for?” “John Marshall,” said he. Mr. Marshall replied, “your vote is appreciated, Mr. Blair.”
… The whole Federal party thought this vote was certain, beyond the possibility of a doubt, for Marshall. “Who do you vote for, Mr. Buchanan?” “For John Clopton,” said the good man. “Mr. Clopton said, “Mr. Buchanan, I shall treasure that vote in my memory. It will be regarded as a feather in my cap for ever.” The shouts were astounding. Hurrah for Marshall! Hurrah for Clopton!
… (when they had returned home), Parson Buchanan said, “Brother Blair, we might as well have staid at home. When I was forced against my will to go, I simply determined to balance your vote, and now we shall hear no complaints of the clergy interfering in elections.”]
Never before and seldom, if ever, since, in the history of Virginia, was any election so fiercely contested. When this ‘democratic’ struggle was over, it was found that Marshall had been elected by the slender majority of 108.
George Washington was overjoyed at the Federalist success, Jefferson was depressed, and the Federalist leaders were “none too sure of their Virginia congressional recruit,” who was “entirely too independent to suit the party organization.
Presumably President-Elect Obama and the Democrats would like to revive the early American tradition of public voting with no secret ballot, at least for workers considering unionization..