If you cast a ballot in last week’s election, there’s a good chance you brandished your “I voted!” receipt (seriously, bring back the stickers) and announced it to the world on social media. It’s the modern equivalent of a badge of honor—a sign to the rest of us that you’re a responsible and thoughtful person.
But “I served on a jury!” notices? Those don’t exist. Can you imagine an “I’M JUROR No. 7, Y’ALL!” picture showing up in your Facebook feed? No one takes proud selfies after deliberation in a courtroom. Here’s the sad truth: Even though it’s a civic duty just as important as going to the polls, our culture treats jury duty with the kind of contempt reserved for dentist appointments or shoveling snow after a blizzard.
Ever been around someone who has just gotten a summons in the mail? Their reaction tends to range from mild irritation to existential dread as they immediately begin formulating elaborate plans on how to dodge it (“Hmm, will the judge buy it if I wear a tinfoil hat and pretend I’m insane?”) There’s proof—type in the words “How to get out of…” or “Avoiding…” into Google and “jury duty” pops up as the first autocomplete option.
It makes sense to dread jury duty on some level. It’s not like voting, which takes only slightly more commitment than a Tinder conversation. It means showing up at the school down the street sometime on a Tuesday and taking a 10-minute, multiple choice test that no one grades. If you don’t have time for that, hey, that’s cool, vote early or absentee!
Jury duty is way more involved. You’re forced to miss work and travel to a courthouse at an appointed time. There you can spend hours, sometimes days, sitting in an uncomfortable room with strangers. The pay? Even though Illinois jurors got a raise this year, the compensation is embarrassingly low ($25-$50 a day). And let’s face it, you probably won’t be a juror in the mysterious murder case that decides if the Man With One Hand poisoned the billionaire heiress. Real justice isn’t like a “Law & Order” episode—it’s mostly a lot of people in suits talking in dry legalese.
But that doesn’t mean the stakes aren’t high. If you vote poorly, don’t worry, there’s millions of other people who’ll drown out your ignorance. In court, you’re not electing a representative to make decisions for you—you ARE the representative of the people. You’re one of only 12 who will hear important facts and testimony, analyze evidence and ultimately determine who wins or loses. You could put someone in prison or bankrupt a multimillion dollar company. That’s heavy stuff.
We’ve come a long way from the Middle Ages, when the accused could be forced to walk over hot coals or plunge their arms into boiling water to prove their innocence. (King Joffrey’s horrific methods of justice in “Games of Thrones” aren’t that much of an exaggeration.) A trial by a jury of unbiased peers might be the purest form of democracy we’ll ever experience. So next time you receive a letter notifying you of jury duty, don’t think of it as a ridiculous demand, but as an invitation to participate in our amazing system of self-governance.
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I look forward to seeing all of your summons on Instagram.
Ryan Smith is a RedEye special contributor.