The Power of Attorney

...moving to Germany means nothing to the Belgian voting system.

Belgium is a strange country, voting-wise. There's dictatorships where I wouldn't be required to vote, but in Belgium, it's civic duty. I have voted more often (once) than some German thirty-somethings. Because I had to I had no idea what I was doing. I don't even remember if I voted blank, unvalid or actually voted. Not (showing up for) voting without good cause is cause for fines, revoking civil rights and even prison term. Well, sort of. If you do it more than once, in theory, you risk the rights thing and prison thing.

In practice, and this I found out later, Belgium hasn't persecuted non-voters since 2003. Partly because the political system in Belgium has been quite messy since BHV got started and partly due to prison overcrowding and judge overworking. There is a list of non-voters. But the Department of Justice can't find a single judge willing to go over it and fine every single person for what's probably between 35 and 65 euros, which is the fine for first-time 'offenders'.

So after I moved, I called up the city I'd moved from and asked the question 'Do I legally have to vote?'.

This was one week before the election of city officials and provincial government.

Turns out, I had to vote. My vote had no effect on my life, but I still had to. The reason? Because I was on the list, and there was no way in our beautiful twenty-first century to, say, remove someone from a list, move someone to another list or alter the list in all its holiness in any way. It's logical if you don't think about it, I'm sure.

I had planned for this eventuality. There are several 'but I'm not there' clauses that can be used. Military duty, job duty, studying, illness, any of the previous abroad and just being stuck abroad. The official voting website said it's easy to give power of attorney. Provide the necessary documents, fill in a form, have it handed in with the letter calling you to vote at the actual day of voting and, presto, power of attorney.

The city's official voting expert said there was no way for me to give power of attorney because I had to somehow meet the mayor in person and beg for his permission, if I understood right, then fill out forms, which the mayor had to sign off on, then provide proof I was abroad and--Logical if you don't think about it.

My mom had gone so far to bother the mayor, which is all-in-all an okay guy, and ask him 'what the hell, dude?', except worded in a more catholically-raised adult kind of way. The mayor, in the tale I heard, basically said someone could hand in my letter with a proof of why I wasn't there, it'd get mailed to the correct instances, and I'd get away scott-free. Should I be unable to provide such proof, well, the fine was nowhere near as dramatic as I'd feared.

I sent the forms for power of attorney, proof, a signature and reminded my dad he had my letter and a copy of my ID on his pc. He and mom could go rock-paper-scissors over who got to explain it to the voting leader person.

Voting in Belgium is a pain.

The government registers you, most of the time, and demands you show up, so most people show up. And it's always on a Sunday morning, and the voting offices close in the early afternoon. If you want to wait less than half an hour to two hours, you get up at half past six, get there at seven when the offices open, vote, and get out. If electronics are used in casting the vote, most of them will break quite early in the process with no one there that has any idea on how to fix them due to electronic security measures put in place preventing a reboot. People who can fix them are stuck in line in their own community, or asleep. I know, brilliance.

My parents agreed my mom would do the explaining. My dad, as much as I love him, rarely is the type of person who repeats 'the powers that be told me to do it this way, you can't tell me it's different' until he's blue in the face, and that's how Belgian bureaucracy works. You call, research and harass until the answer pleases you, or annoys you the least, follow instructions and then play the 'you told me' card. My mom, on the other hand, is a math teacher. No one messes with math teachers. Especially before they've had time to have a cup of coffee.

The guy in charge, like all people working there, was a 'volunteers'. In truth, the government has a lottery system in place of all non-psychopaths in a certain district and anyone can be called up to spend their Sunday trying to calm down a bunch of people who really rather wouldn't be there, desperately find someone to fix the computers, and counting votes. For no pay. Some cities provide food, but I'm pretty sure the only reason everyone has drinks is because there's a law about it somewhere. Stimulating environment, I know.

Voting makes most Belgians unenthusiastic at best. Agressive and apathic are other options. Yeah, the guy in charge didn't care if my proof of employment abroad was written in crayon on used toilet paper. Mom had forms, they looked in order, she had the letters, here's two forms, ma'am, happy voting, next person.

So far, I haven't received news that my old place of residence wants me to fork over money.