Sometimes the best way to honor the vote is to sink it

Democracy can be frustrating — especially when you hold a free election, expecting the citizenry to vote according to their time-honored conservative principles, but they instead cast a landslide of cartoonishly absurd ballots.

I’m speaking, of course, about the recent voting held in Great Britain. Who did you think I was talking about?

In case you haven’t been following the election, it all began when Great Britain decided to build a state-of-the-art 300 million dollar polar research vessel to explore the Arctic and Antarctic, and the National Environment Research Council thought it was a good idea to let the public name it in an online poll.

More than 10,000 Brits cast votes to name the ship the “RRS Sir David Attenborough” after the United Kingdom’s respected naturalist and broadcaster who recently turned 90. It warmed the cockles of the Research Council’s heart to read those votes, because they affirmed respect for the ship’s — and Attenborough’s — dedication to the advancement of human knowledge.

Except that all those votes for Attenborough were a drop in the bucket compared to the 124,109 votes cast for “Boaty McBoatface” in an online joke that ran amuck.

British communication specialist James Hand came up with the name and thought it would be funny to “throw it into the ring.” But as soon as the name showed up on the online voting site, the website crashed with all the hits it was getting.

“It was actually nothing to do with me,” Hand said. “It was my suggestion but the storm that has been created has legs of its own.”

The Research Council was aghast, as you might imagine. Their stiff upper lip quivered with outrage.

After all, consider all the scientific wonders that marvelous vessel will discover, followed by a Research Council announcement proudly telling the world: “Great Britain once again pushed the boundaries of science as another stunning discovery was made by our state-of-the-art research vessel — Boaty McBoatface!”

Blimey!

There was so much consternation in Parliament that a government inquiry was scheduled over the Research Council’s decision to hold a non-binding public vote to pick a name.

“My committee wants to explore this as an example of science communication,” said governmental committee chair Nicola Blackwood. “Was it a triumph of public engagement or a PR disaster?”

Oh, the frustrations of free elections, where voters can choose to soar like eagles — or cackle like Heckle and Jeckle.

Fortunately, nothing like that could ever happen here, right?

I mean, imagine holding a presidential election with more than a dozen qualified conservative candidates, and the electorate voting in landslide numbers for some cartoonish, buffoonish clown like…oh, let’s say Rumpy T Rumpface.

A triumph of public engagement? Or a PR disaster?

Of course, there would be more at stake in a presidential election than just the embarrassment of a silly name. After all, a research vessel can still do a good job with a clownish moniker, because it’s still full of all that good science stuff. The science will get done, even if the reporting of it might cause a few twinges of embarrassment.

But there’s no telling what a President like Rumpy T Rumpface would be full of. So that could be a problem.

Fortunately, the Brits in their infinite wisdom found an answer to their naming dilemma, one that they hope will satisfy everyone.

They went ahead and named the marvelous research vessel the “RRS Sir David Attenborough,” the name they had hoped the electorate would have chosen had they taken the whole thing seriously instead of childishly.

But they also honored the sanctity of free elections by bestowing the name “Boaty McBoatface” on a tiny “high-tech remotely operated undersea vehicle,” which will perform tasks like finding icebergs—even though British mariners mastered that skill with Titanic efficiency as far back as 1912.

Boaty McBoatface is shaped like a torpedo, but it’s actually a little yellow submarine, which, ironically, a quartet of Brits predicted some 50 years ago.

“And the band begins to play….”

It’s too early to tell if British voters will be satisfied with the Research Council’s decision. The whole embarrassing affair could sail off into the sunset as a win-win situation. Or it could be another Titanic mistake.

In any case, if something like that ever happened in an American election, it’s certain that Council leaders on this side of the pond would be watching with eager eyes to see how it all plays out in Great Britain.

After all, a conservative American Council would love to find some way to honor the wishes of all those voters who picked Rumpy T Rumpface in their primaries. It would only be right, because the people would have spoken. And in a democracy, as frustrating as it might be, the electorate must be satisfied.

But the grown-ups in the room wouldn’t be satisfied until they figured out a way to sink Rumpy T Rumpface like a yellow-haired submarine.

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