An excerpt from Octave Mirbeau's pamphlet, Voters Strike, issued in 1888:
Good voter, unspeakable imbecile, poor dupe, if instead of reading the same old crap that the morning
papers serve you up you every day (big papers, small papers, right wing or left wing papers, conservative or progressive papers) in order to manipulate you the way they want; if, instead of swallowing that flattery that caresses your vanity and props up your lamentable and tattered sovereignty; if instead of gawking, as an eternal idiot, at the heavy bullshit of politics, you were, for once, sitting in your armchair, reading the work of Schopenhauer and Max Nordau [for instance The Conventional Lies of Our Civilization, 1883], two authors who have meditated deeply about you as a voter and about your leaders, perhaps you might learn something amazing and useful. May be, after reading their works, you’ll feel less obligated to put on again your air of gravity, wear your coat and run back to those murderous polls where, no matter whose name you choose, you are sure of picking up the name of your worst enemy. They tell you, those two connoisseurs of humanity, that politics is an abominable lie, opposed to all common sense, justice and right, and that, by meddling in it, you will gain no credit, you, whose fate is already written in the grand account of human destiny.
After that, dream if you will of paradises of light and perfumes, of impossible brotherhood, of unreal happiness. It’s good to dream; it eases our pains. But keep politics out of your dream, for wherever politicians are found, there too are sadness, hatred, and misdeeds. Above all, remember that he who solicits your vote is, by that very fact, revealed as a scoundrel, since, in exchange for your advantage and fortune, he promises a cornucopia of miracles he’ll never deliver because he hasn’t the power to deliver them. The man you elect represents neither your problems, nor your aspirations, nor anything of yours, but rather his own passions and interests, which are all opposed to yours.
In order to warns you about cultivating hopes that will soon fade away, do not imagine that the sorry spectacle at which you assist today is peculiar to one regime, and that it will pass away. All regimes are worth the same, that is, they are all equally worthless. So go home, my good friend, and go on strike against general elections. You have nothing to lose, and, at least, this should keep you amused for a while. From behind your windows, in your home shut firmly against all beggars of political alms, you’ll watch the obscene trafficking in votes and electoral favours.
