Every four years, the country, the international media and the students on this campus become absorbed with a presidential election that’s always said to be of monumental import.

As much as the political experts are attesting to the significance of today’s statewide Democratic presidential primary, I can remember being harangued by a number of sources about how consequential 2004’s election – the first election I was age-eligible for – would be.

Like many college kids I know, I felt compelled to vote to make a difference in our country. I took the train back home, drove to the polling station and cast my ballot for Sen. John Kerry, the Democratic candidate.

When I found out the next morning that Kerry had lost, I felt irate and seriously depressed, and I got into an argument with a Republican friend who I pretty much haven’t spoken to since.

This year, I’ve decided to spare myself the heartbreak and the inconvenience of queuing at the polls by simply not voting. In hindsight, I had no business casting a ballot in 2004, either. There was little for me to like about Kerry, and I only voted for him so George Bush wouldn’t be in office any longer. Kerry, a long-winded Massachusetts senator, was merely the lesser of two evils.

Really, that’s central to why I won’t be voting again this year or any year in the future. Looking back, it strikes me as very tragic that I invested so much hope and devotion in someone I didn’t even really like or agree with. I can happily say I’ll never do that again.

Moreover, a candidate like Kerry was problematic because he stood for me about as well any affluent, 64-year-old New England man could. Our government is supposed to be representative, but most politicians live in vastly different circumstances than ordinary folk. Suffice it to say, my political views have evolved since 2004, and today I can’t find any sense in voting to grant authority to someone who knows nothing about my problems or my way of life.

But this year, you might say, is different. Both a black man and a woman are running, and certainly their minority status in Washington, D.C. would allow them to understand me better.

I don’t doubt that both Sens. Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama possess certain insights that white male candidates could not. But that not withstanding, I couldn’t in good conscience vote for either of them because I don’t agree with all their policies.

Voting requires you to go out of your way. If you’re willing to do it, then it’s like you’re offering a tacit endorsement to a candidate and everything they stand for. I can’t do that because I have strong differences with both the Democrats – not to mention Sen. John McCain – on issues like health care and the war. Why would I vote for either of them when they’re going to enact policies I completely oppose?

While I was talking to one of my friends about my position, he agreed that voting usually entails selecting the better of two bad candidates, but he said that’s simply the way the political system is.

That may be true, but that doesn’t mean I have to participate in it.

Ashwin Verghese can be reached at ashwin.verghese@temple.edu.