For all the talk during the presidential campaign about fixing Social Security and revamping Medicare, the reform that's likely to receive real attention after our new president assumes office could turn out to be something that no one discussed: overhauling the way we vote.

Leave it to Cambridge to be ahead of the curve.

Long before anyone had even heard the phrase "pregnant chad," the city affectionately known as the People's Republic had tackled the question of election reform. Though the Cambridge City Council isn't looking to update the technical means by which people vote, it is examining how it can broaden the base of those eligible to participate. And if it's successful, the city could transform the way local politicians campaign for office.

Right now, two voting-related initiatives are on the table that would introduce thousands of new voters into the city's political landscape (see "Expanding the Franchise," page 28). The first, which councilors approved last month, would allow immigrants who are not citizens but are residents of Cambridge to cast ballots in school-committee elections. The second, which the council is debating, would lower the voting age in municipal elections to 16. The council may vote on this motion as early as January; most observers say it will pass, although some expect the council to lower the voting age to 17 instead. Before either initiative can take effect, however, it must be approved by the state legislature. The first has already been forwarded to Beacon Hill as a home-rule petition.

It goes without saying that both measures are long shots -- long, long shots. As one Boston observer predicts, "People are going to look at these and say, `Crazy, crazy Cambridge, always pushing the envelope.' They won't stand the challenge of making it through the legislature. Trust me."

No other Massachusetts city has granted voting rights to noncitizens or teenagers. Amherst has tried to give noncitizens who are permanent residents the right to vote by passing a measure similar to the one approved in Cambridge, but the town's home-rule petition has languished at the State House since April 1999. Still, this doesn't mean the Cambridge efforts are futile. Similar initiatives have been put in place elsewhere in the country. New York City, for instance, awarded immigrant parents of schoolchildren the right to vote and the right to run for school board back in 1968. (In fact, the Amherst petition was spearheaded by Vladimir Morales, a former New York City resident and school-board member who, upon moving to Amherst, was surprised to learn that immigrant parents could not participate in municipal elections.) Other cities, including Takoma Park, Maryland, and Chicago, have also granted noncitizens the franchise. Proponents say these reforms have played a vital role in bridging racial, cultural, and economic disparities within their public-school systems.

Jamin Raskin, an American University professor who drafted the Takoma Park measure, says that it has led to "greater voter turnout overall." Though noncitizens aren't necessarily voting at higher rates than US citizens, a growing number of them have made their presence known by organizing and getting involved in campaigns.

Even Cambridge, where local elections are often intense, has struggled to boost turnout in municipal contests above 40 percent. And just 65 percent of 70,000 eligible voters are registered to vote in Cambridge, as compared to 71 percent statewide and 70 percent nationwide. The city's figures are in line with those of Boston, where 62 percent of eligible voters are registered. Less than half of those registered to vote in Cambridge, however, bother to do so. In the five local elections held between 1989 and 1997, the number of residents who cast ballots dropped by roughly 10,000, from 27,593 to 17,229.

But the latest measures, if they pass, could add thousands of new voters to the sagging election rolls. According to the city's 1990 census figures, about 1500 16- and 17-year-olds live in Cambridge. Statistics from the city's community-development department show 13,000 immigrants who have yet to become citizens, and some activists estimate the number to be closer to 20,000. If they were all granted the right to vote in Cambridge elections, it would raise the number of eligible voters by 20 percent -- as much as 30 percent if you put the number of eligible noncitizen residents at 20,000.

But will they vote? "Just because you give new groups of people the opportunity to participate doesn't mean they will," says Democratic political consultant Michael Goldman. And it's hard to overlook the fact that the two constituencies Cambridge may enfranchise -- immigrants and young people -- have low voter turnout to begin with.

Malden, for example, has a sizable Asian community -- it's practically doubled in the past decade, from five percent to 10 percent of the general population -- but not one locally elected Asian politician. Community activists say that the city's Asian population has yet to think of itself as an influential voting bloc. "Some Asian residents do vote," explains Mohammed Zhani of Voices in Action, a Malden-based immigrant-advocacy group, "but they haven't talked political power yet." In Chelsea, meanwhile, the Latino community has grown so large that it could dictate municipal elections, if only Latino residents who could vote did so.

And consider that only 32 percent of 18- to 24-year-olds cast ballots during the 1996 presidential election, as compared to 49 percent of eligible voters overall. "There's no reason to think 16- and 17-year-olds would behave differently than their 18-year-old counterparts," says Goldman. In other words, there's no guarantee that an expanded voter base will lead to an engaged voter base.

"In local elections," Goldman concludes, "you don't get a city council or school committee that reflects values of residents; you get [elected bodies] that reflect values of residents who vote."

That said, there's little doubt that new voters can play a dramatic and even a determining role in local elections. For some candidates, in fact, reaching out to the political novice has made all the difference. Boston city councilor Michael Ross, who defeated the politically connected Suzanne Iannella in a close race last year, attributes his 400-vote margin of victory to students living in Boston. "There were so many potential voters," explains Jeff Bellows, who headed Ross's 1999 campaign, "we knew we had to get out and engage them."

Ross worked particularly hard for the Boston University constituency, pressing the flesh at campus events and registering students to vote. His efforts paid off phenomenally: as many as 400 students flooded polling precincts that historically had drawn as few as 10. "It wouldn't have been possible for Mike to win without this voting base," Bellows says.

Somerville mayor Dorothy Kelly Gay used a similar tactic in her hard-fought battle against former alderman John Buonomo (who was just elected the Middlesex Register of Probate). During her 1999 campaign, Kelly Gay and manager Sean Fitzgerald, now the mayor's spokesperson, opted to go after the city's new residents, many of whom had voted sporadically or not at all. Fitzgerald scoured the Somerville voting rolls for names and addresses of newly registered voters. He found about 500 of them and then, in his words, "carpet bombed" their homes with direct mail and telephone calls. The candidate later sealed their support with personal visits. Kelly Gay ended up beating her opponent by a mere 397 votes -- a margin that Fitzgerald credits to the new voters.

"The strategy was instrumental," he says. "Without reaching out to new voters, we certainly wouldn't have won."

State Representative Jarrett Barrios (D-Cambridge) has gone to great lengths to woo new voters as well. Before he even made his 1998 run, Barrios could be found traveling door-to-door in the Hispanic areas around Columbia Avenue, registering new voters and showing them how to fill out a ballot. He gave Harvard University students similar red-carpet treatment -- and they, in turn, rewarded him. During the 1998 primary elections, turnout among Harvard undergraduates shot up to 70 percent of registered voters, compared with a mere 30 percent in the 1996 primary elections. The statistic is all the more remarkable because 1996 was a presidential-election year -- which typically boosts turnout across all age groups.

All this goes to show that any group of voters, if mobilized, can become an influential bloc in local elections. And the two voting groups in question could transform the way campaigns are run in Cambridge. If noncitizens could vote, for example, school-committee candidates would undoubtedly be forced to knock on the doors of families that have just arrived from El Salvador, Haiti, and India -- doors that politicians have never had to knock on before. Meanwhile, a teen voting bloc might prompt city councilors to campaign at the overlooked high-school gym. Bilingual-education or youth programs could turn into hot political debates.

Even if the Cambridge efforts don't lead to hordes of new, active voters, they will change the city's public discourse. Says Janice Lee, an adviser for the teen-vote measure: "Right now, we see small groups of hyper-informed citizens involved in the political process. Local elections would look very different if we could count on fresh voices to introduce fresh ideas."

It might seem politically naive for Cambridge to push for a more inclusive electoral system. Yet not long ago, proponents say, no one imagined that politicians would discuss the failures of the Electoral College, and that pundits would clamor for reform. So if there were ever an opportune time for these initiatives, this is it.

"As Cambridge goes, the rest don't necessarily follow," acknowledges Cambridge city councilor Jim Braude. "But in these Floridian-esque times, nothing resonates more than the notion that every vote counts. . . . Cambridge couldn't have chosen a better time to talk seriously about who gets to vote."