I was 16 the first time I voted. Like the swathes of teenagers soon to be enfranchised by the legislation introduced to parliament earlier this month, I was enamoured by the allure of Green Party. This was not due to policy or ideological commitment: this was a mock election at school, and the student Green leader knew how to steal the show. She wore glittery green eyeshadow, performed Irish dancing on the tables at lunchbreak and handed out free cupcakes to potential supporters. The other parties could not compete.
For opponents of lowering the voting age to 16, this anecdote proves their worst fears. It demonstrates that young people are too immature, short-sighted and easily influenced to be afforded a say in who runs the country. They rarely ask the follow-up question: if ignorance or naivety should disqualify someone from voting, how many adults would fail the test? More importantly, who decides? Should would-be voters be compelled to pass an exam, asking them to articulate the significance of the 1854 Northcote-Trevelyan reforms and the Salisbury-Addison Convention? It would save a lot of trouble next time an indignant politician huffs about the House of Lords or the apolitical civil service being an affront to the will of the people.
As for susceptibility, depending on our persuasions, we can all picture politicians who have bamboozled sections of the electorate with their flashy presentation, attention-grabbing stunts or thinly veiled bribes. It’s usually tax cuts or welfare giveaways they’re promising rather than cupcakes, but the principle is the same.
When Labour first announced its intention to expand the franchise to the youth of today, accusations of gerrymandering abounded. Speaking cynically, governments that seek to change election rules hope the reforms will benefit them (look at the Tories and voter ID). This does not always come to pass (again, Tories and voter ID), and in this instance any advantage Labour hoped to get from young voters looks set to boost the Greens – or, where some young men are concerned, Reform. At any rate, 16- to 17-year-olds make up around 3 per cent of the eligible voting population; they’d have to vote en masse and of one mind to swing the dial, even in a fragmented electoral landscape. Considering a third of under-25s didn’t turn out in 2024 (twice as high as for over-56s), the impact of this move seems limited.
But that doesn’t make it pointless. Trust in our politics has been declining for four decades. In 1986, around 40 per cent of Brits trusted the government all or most of the time; that figure stood at 12 per cent in 2024. Disillusionment is poison for democracy: when people lose trust in political systems, they turn to more radical alternatives. Low turnout is for the most part a symptom rather than a cause of this malaise, but disengagement is self-perpetuating. It’s harder to discount the result of an election where 80 per cent of the electorate votes (like New Zealand in 2023) than 60 per cent (the UK in 2024).
Voting at 16 might not change results, but it does change perceptions. There’s a mindset shift from school pupils merely being taught about civic rights to being able to exercise them. The ability to vote in a real-life election (not a mock one with eyeshadow and Riverdance) raises the stakes. Combined with proper citizenship and media-literacy lessons (which a good number of adults would also benefit from), we have the opportunity to significantly increase engagement in politics for the next generation.
As a bonus, we might even get governments thinking longer-term about trade-offs and priorities, with a greater focus on things like infrastructure, energy security and how to adequately fund education. I’m not holding my breath (as mentioned, this cohort isn’t big enough to sway an election), but then again, electoral cupcakes are always proffered when polling day looms – it wouldn’t be the worst thing if politicians of all parties recognised the need to be a bit more open-minded about who gets them.
[Further reading: Dominic Sandbrook on history, the liberal elite and the reading crisis]
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This article appears in the 25 Feb 2026 issue of the New Statesman, The Crumbling Crown
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