With over 18,000 students, it is natural that the students enrolled in Trinity are categorised into cohorts of smaller groups. This can be achieved in the formal divisions of disciplines, courses and programmes but these categorisations also take place in less institutionalised methods. For one, there are the students who are weeks ahead of the reading list and then there are the students prone to asking “what week are we even on?”.
In fact, it is the question of precisely what week we are on at present that brings yet another diverging categorisation to the forefront of the student body. For the vast majority of students, week six is considered to be the final countdown before reading week. However, for a cohort of students relying on the majority, this week was the countdown to the Trinity College Dublin Students’ Union (TCDSU) elections.
As a second year whose prior experience of the campaigns was an entirely online affair, acting as a race correspondent for the 2022 elections has offered a fascinating – and at times downright bizarre – insight into TCDSU. Now that the two-week event has ended I have reached two of my own highly scientific conclusions.
The first is that for some students, the elections and the union more generally are vital and critical components of College life. They represent the voice of the students at the highest committee levels and are the embodiment of hard work, student representation and change. The second conclusion I reached is that the vast majority of students are really not that bothered by any of this.
For most students, week six is the final countdown before reading week. However, for a cohort of students relying on the majority, this week was the countdown to the TCDSU sabbatical elections
Engagement with TCDSU has been a long-running topic of concern but I was still surprised initially to learn that half of the 2022 races were uncontested. My surprise lasted mere seconds into my first experience of hustings and all confusion was promptly cleared up. Why on earth would anyone voluntarily put themselves through this?
I have long since considered leader’s questions in the Dáil to be an example of playground politics, but the phenomenon of council and hustings was far newer. There are introductory statements and impassioned speeches. There are campaigning protocols and candidate promises. Most notably, there are people in the theatre who engage with this process and people who are blissfully unaware that there’s even such an event happening in the theatre.
While candidates were becoming experts in dodging specific and niche questions, students were becoming experts in dodging colourful t-shirt-wearing campaigners. Again and again I was struck by the contrast between how intense the election period was for those involved and how trivial it appeared for the average student. Vocal and assured committee members interrogated candidates on absences in their manifestos but throughout the campaign it was the average student who remained conspicuously absent.
As part of the election coverage, The University Times carries out an annual poll around campus. Following the tragic death of a student on campus, we cancelled the three-day poll in the interest of sensitivity to would-be pollees. As a result there is no quantitative data to account for the hour that I spent polling last month. However, the experience has offered me plenty of anecdotal evidence to support the distance between the average student and the avid campaigner. I didn’t know what to expect while polling but as it turned out not knowing became the running theme of my hour.
“Oh, is there an election?”
“I don’t actually know any of these people.”
“Is that why people are wearing the tops?”
“I think I saw something on Instagram.”
‘Honestly, I’ve never heard of any of these names.”
There are a number of reasons why this sample of responses I received is not representative, and the most pressing of these is the limited sample size – a concern that raises a key point about student engagement with TCDSU.
Again and again I was struck by the contrast between how intense the election period was for those involved and how trivial it appeared for the average student
House Six, the union’s base, is tucked away into a corner of campus and the officers that are part of this are just as much on the periphery of most student’s mentality. Any society that runs a pub quiz ought to include a bonus round with a point for each sabbatical officer that a team can name, and a double bonus if they can match them to their role without digging out the TCDSU weekly email.
The union exists on the premise of a democratically elected group of students. The repeated focus on the singular student’s role is necessary and inescapable. However, the proportion of students that engage with the election process is a worryingly small fraction of the overall electorate. A student is elected to a sabbatical role based on a majority. But far from a majority of Trinity students, this quota is a majority of those who vote. Following reduced turnout in the 2022 races, this distinction is worth both acknowledgment and action.
Last year’s election saw maximum engagement in the presidential race where 4,000 students placed votes. The current president Leah Keogh emerged victorious on 2,313 valid votes. For the academic year 2021/22 18,871 students are registered with Trinity. The race that received greatest engagement was, again, the presidential race – but even this race received close to half of the votes compared to its preceding year. Gabi Fullam was elected with 1,114 votes out of a total valid poll of 2,148. The presidential race garnered more engagement than any of the other roles but even at this the voters represented merely an approximate 11 per cent of the population.
Notably, the circumstances surrounding last year’s elections were notably different. Online voting was once again employed for the election, because the union is contractually obligated to use EVIABI Ltd – but 12 months ago the vast majority of our lives were taking place in an online sphere. Emails and online actions were not just second nature, but our first instinctive response. With campus back to something resembling an in-person normality there was a clear juxtaposition with the 2022 employment of an online voting system.
A student is elected to a sabbatical role based on a majority. But far from a majority of Trinity students, this quota is a majority of those who vote
Students with little to no interest in the elections are disinclined to follow up on an easily dismissed email requiring the painstaking verification of identity on up to six separate links. Prior to the pandemic, voting was an in-person affair allowing students to be encouraged (read: dragged) to fill out a physical ballot. This personal method of capturing student interest builds the foundations required to increase union awareness but it will take long-term thought and action to bridge the gap between students and their union.
For many students, the union is a bubble that exists in House Six and not much further beyond. Those part of this perceived bubble often don’t take too kindly to this characterisation, but dismissing the reality of student perceptions will only hinder any attempts to overcome the problem of disengagement. TCDSU is, in practice, a small cohort of students who – to their credit – carry out work that is of value to all students. But while it is of value, this is not yet the same as being of interest.
