I have never voted in an election. Not because I didn’t want to but because I couldn’t. For my entire adult life, I have been a migrant. I have lived in foreign countries long enough to care about their politics, but never long enough to qualify for citizenship.

I grew up in Stalinist Albania, a place where voting was an absurd ritual performed cyclically by citizens who knew elections were pointless, and that dissidence would be punished. Every four years, my parents would wake up at 4am or 5am and race to the voting booth, mindful that failure to show up first might be considered an act of sabotage. Loyalty to the party was measured by your keenness.

A few hours later, the only existing television channel triumphantly announced the result: the only party able to contest elections had won 100% of the seats with 100% turnout. Elections acted as a kind of periodic confirmation that the people’s will and that of the party were the same. As the official slogan went: “Every vote is a bullet for our imperialist and revisionist enemies.”

Today, every nation claims to be a democracy, no matter how farcical its elections

I often wondered: since elections were clearly farcical, why were they not simply abolished? Perhaps it is because they are considered a signal of progress no matter where you are. The global spread of universal suffrage was, like the abolition of slavery, one of those historical events thought to prove that the arc of the moral universe bent toward justice. That the promise is often not fulfilled in practice tends to be ignored. Here the analogy with slavery is telling: no contemporary nation could legally reintroduce slavery, even though millions live in slave-like conditions. Today, every nation claims to be a democracy, no matter how farcical its elections; nobody would dare abolish them altogether.

There are ways of making up for the inability to vote in the country where you live. One can vote in one’s state of origin, if circumstances permit. Or engage in other forms of politics – like being a member of a party, protesting or striking. But not everyone has the privilege to take these actions: there are migrants for whom the hardships of life, the threats of employers and the pressure to conform are so vast that none of this is remotely feasible.

Of course, there are also millions of citizens who choose not to vote. They may face similar constraints on their time and freedom – or simply think all politicians are the same, and that elections matter very little. But choosing not to vote isn’t the same as not having the choice. Those who have no capacity to vote also have no capacity to spoil their ballots. Boycotting elections is an exercise in political freedom – but not even having the option amounts to its opposite.

Voting is essential to democratic legitimacy. By choosing those who represent us in parliament, we have a say in the laws that will govern us in the future. Without that say, we simply obey rules that are authorised by others. Far from being masters of our fate, we are the subject of the will of strangers.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest ‘We would be worse off without the power to vote – and real freedom would be more difficult to obtain.’ A polling station in north London. Photograph: Mary Turner/Getty Images

The central institution of liberal democracy is the election of representatives at regular intervals. We are supposed to choose MPs based on the policies they promise to put forward, and to assess the desirability of these policies based on their affinity with the vision of the parties they represent. Though they are typically maligned in the press, without political parties democracy would consist of arbitrary rule by individuals. The role of parties – their history, their mutual antagonism, the legacies they represent, and the principles they stand for – help citizens to frame their views on matters of common concern. Criticism and activism from citizens, on the other hand, ought to help parties sharpen their political commitments.

In the ideal case, elections are the paradigmatically inclusive event in the life of a democratic political community. The slogan “one person, one vote” neatly encapsulates the egalitarian potential of democratic institutions. Of course, in reality, wealth and power are so unevenly distributed in capitalist societies that the capacity of a wealthy few to shape the agenda and influence political decisions distorts the debate and perverts the ideal of democratic representation.

And yet, there is this one day, election day, in which all citizens have equal power. It doesn’t matter if you are young or old, a woman or a man, gay or straight, rich or poor, highly articulate or barely literate, a professional politician or a window-cleaner.

It doesn’t matter whether you are Mike Ashley or Brenda from Bristol. Each person has one and only one vote, and, on election day that one vote has the potential to make a difference.

Unless, of course, you are not a citizen of this state. Then someone else is going to decide on your behalf, and the consequences of their decisions will be all the more dramatic if you are vulnerable. In this case, election day will no longer be an expression of inclusion but a stark reminder of the exclusions that continue to pervade liberal societies, despite their promise of effective representation. Election day is when the difference between those who belong and those who don’t is publicly asserted.

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On 12 December, many migrants in the UK – both EU and non-EU citizens – may spend the day canvassing, watching their friends vote and urging other people to do the same. They may stay up late to find out which party or parties will shape the policies that will constrain their lives for years to come. But in the end, on a matter of crucial importance to their lives, they will have been denied a say.

Some might try to soften the blow – and in the process normalise the migrant predicament. They might cynically argue that voting is all a charade anyway, possibly quoting Rousseau’s infamous declaration: “The English people thinks it is free; it is greatly mistaken, it is free only during the election of Members of Parliament; as soon as they are elected it is enslaved, it is nothing.” But even if Rousseau was right, we would be worse off without the power to vote – and real freedom for all would be even more difficult to obtain.

This is why voting is essential. It is more than a right – it is a responsibility, the responsibility of those who have the power to vote to exercise that power on behalf of those who don’t. Make sure to use it.

• Lea Ypi is professor of political theory at the London School of Economics