WHO’S COUNTING?: MISREPRESENTATION, FORCED VOTES, and SPOILED BALLOTS
Most folks I know, many of whom tend to avoid political discussion most of the time, can get pretty passionate about elections and voting when provoked. I often find myself disagreeing with them on rather significant points.
For instance, to start with, most people seem to have it in their head that nobody votes any more. (You’re of this belief, are you not?) Well, sometime after the last federal election it occurred to me that, while we often hear about the decline in voter turnout, little historical context is ever presented. Given that, I thought to dig around in Statistics Canada data for myself. After scouring several reports and databases I came to some interesting conclusions.
From what I can tell, it is technically true that the percentage of registered voters who cast ballots has declined, particularly in the last decade. However, presentation of data like this, alone by itself, actually obscures far more than it illuminates. (Hmmm, where have we seen that before?) For a more complete picture – and to be making any kind of sense at all – it’s important to compare today’s figures with the fluctuations in the numbers of voters in past years. And it’s especially important to look at the percentage of registered voters as a percentage of the entire population. (Right? Because without this context it’s impossible to say whether or not things are actually, meaningfully worse.)
So, what happens when you look at all of these numbers together, in context? Yes, you guessed it, the decline is not nearly as significant as it’s made out to be. In fact, what is framed in the media as nothing less than a national catastrophe becomes far less of a significant outlier and much more of a very slight deviation still very consistent with the norm.
To be specific, as far as I can tell, the 45% percent turn-out in the 2000 and 2006 elections is well within the range of 40-50% seen regularly since the 1930s. Even the most recent federal election in 2008, by all accounts “the worst turnout on record”, remains well within the historical average. (I’ll leave it up to you to figure out who’s trying to mislead you and why.)
That being said, interestingly, the data does show a drop in the number of younger voters over time. Voter lists clearly show far fewer people under the age of 25 voting today than in the 1960s and 70s, say. We might ask why that is. Could it have something to do with this population’s fewer numbers in general? Do the youth of today realize that, as a cohort, they make up a smaller percentage of the population than other groups, particularly their parents, and therefore have far less impact even if they were a unified interest group? Or does this data suggest a growing lack of faith in the system? Maybe it’s both? Perhaps it’s something else altogether? Maybe more 18-25 year-olds are still in school today than in the past and have more immediate and tangible concerns.
But if these young people were to vote who might they wish to support? In my experience, if you talk to people about the electoral system and politics generally, some younger voters (and non-voters) will suggest that choice is a major problem. Of course to much of the rest of the population this seems like a patently false assertion and, as such, their concern gets ignored or written off by older generations. People will compare our situation here in Canada to the situation in the United States, for instance, and conclude that Canadian voters have plenty of choice, maybe too much even.
It’s true that here in Canada we have more than twice as many popular political parties as the US, and all of them receive a significant number of votes on the national level (suggesting to some a level of relevance.) The Bloc Quebecois, Conservative, Green, Liberal, and New Democratic parties are the most well-recognized; however, if you look for them, you’ll discover no less than nineteen officially registered national parties. And one would assume that with so many parties, even just the dominant five, large swathe of political opinion would be represented and, best of all, this would translate into a diverse spectrum of positions and policies.
Troublingly, come election time, if you start digging around for and comparing official policy positions from your would-be representatives, as I have, you’re going to find a real deficiency of ideas and not the profusion you might expect. Over time, it appears, a growing number of voices have emerged arguing ever-more loudly over a narrower and narrower spectrum of permissible political opinion. This reality came sharply into focus when I took a series of surveys designed to tell me how my political opinions align with the platforms of the seven most popular national parties (the aforementioned five, plus the Communist party and a Christian party.) My results showed that I sit on firm and nearly virtually identical footing (within a reasonable margin of error) of no less than five parties – the entire available political opposition in this country. Now I don’t know how you interpret this, but it feels to me like we have a two-party system and that people at the administration level of these political parties are too busy playing politics to have noticed that their policies have converged, and to the right of center at that.
(This is pretty strange given that anyone could easily write a hundred pages containing very reasonable progressive alternatives to the policies and legislation currently available in Canada. And they wouldn’t even need to get creative, they could just simply steal the best ideas currently implemented and proposed in other Western democracies.)
Further, given the staggeringly slim difference between parties, I’d be happy to wager that only a fraction of the voting population actually investigates and makes relevant comparisons between parties when deciding who to vote for. I’d also be willing to bet that a minority of voters actually know, and therefore care, what their MP says they believe and promises they’ll accomplish. Instead, it seems to me that most people must be voting based not on what a party actual stands for and says they intend to do but for what a party has come to be associated with over time. (My favourite example of this is how, in the most recent election, the NDP had the most business-friendly tax policy in print; but the Conservative still won, not based on their promises but on their pro-business legacy.) So in this light, one could argue, and I do, that the real “voter apathy” is found with those that cast a vote out of habit or some sense of obligation, for the sake of “democracy” or for some form of patriotism, and not because they care or even know what’s going on.
Further still, given the sorry state of our popular media (its partisan ownership and the crass triviality of most reportage) and the general lack of transparency (one might even say “a culture of secrecy”) pervading government and business, I would argue that even the most diligent voter remains at best woefully uninformed. For instance, if you look at any modern trade agreement (or, rather, the few details to which the public has access) you cannot help but ask if democracy, as it is commonly understood, actually exists at all, anywhere...
But let’s pretend that you have some privilege, some special access to information the rest of us don’t. And then lets pretend you also have the time, energy, and experience to bring a useful level of scrutiny to all of the twenty or so parties seeking your vote. Who then are you going to vote for and why? What are you taking into account and what are you ignoring? Why?
Imagine for a moment, if you will, that after all your research none of the candidates or the parties they represent stand out as strongly sharing your views. On economics, education, employment, immigration, social justice, environmental sustainability, foreign policy, defence, healthcare, transportation, etc... no party could reasonably be shown to fairly represent you or your views. Or maybe you just don’t think some uncontroversial talking-points based on popular polling data gives anyone any meaningful insight into how the next four years will unfold; that any issue that matters will be more nuanced and complex than what’s covered by a few slogans or equations; and that it’s really the things that haven’t been anticipated and fully accounted for, the outliers and anomalies, that often matter most.
Or maybe you feel that the decisions that really count are never put up to a vote or even in the picture during political debates. Look at something like Alberta’s tar sands. This is an industrial project, the largest on the planet, one taking place within the private jurisdiction of just one of the country’s provinces, and a small province at that. Yet this single project alone has dramatically altered the very definition of what it means to be Canadian: how we are perceived by our neighbours and around the world, our economic and industrial footing, our political leveraging, our status as a health conscious, environmentally conscious, forward leaning nation… None of this was brought up, nevermind addressed, at any time during the elections of the last four decades. Not one person appears to have accounted for, nevermind voted for, the fundamental transformation of who we are as a people and how we’re going to be thought of around the world long into the future. (Or did I miss the plebiscite?) Is there any doubt that the tar sands has already had, and will have when all is said and done, a greater impact on Canada and the world than any trade agreement, involvement in any international organization, or even our participation in any of the many wars and conflicts in which we are currently engaged? Well, who voted for that in this democracy?
What about this: what if the parties or candidates express views and/or propose policy different to, or even conflicting with, your own thinking or personal needs? What if all the candidates on your ballot intend to impose legislation that will impede, diminish, or even destroy policies and programs (or even people and places) you support and feel strongly about? What if none of them are even thinking about, nevermind framing policy to address, the issues you care about most? What then does an election or its obligate voting process look like for you? Why would you even participate?
I encourage you to think about that seriously a moment. In such a situation is it better to:
A) Vote for the lesser-of-two-evils (knowing that this means you’re giving support to someone who plans to put a highway or pipeline through your land or a local park, say, or continue a policy of subjugating or simply ignoring a suffering minority you belong to or feel empathy for)
B) Spoil your ballot (certain that nobody will notice or care)
C) Not vote at all (because, well, why waste the time, energy, and resources – yours and everyone else’s?)
Which option best voices your opinion? Do any of these options result in your voice being heard? If so, who’s listening and why? And is that important to you, or in a democracy generally?
Why vote at all?
It happens to be these same folks, the uninformed and truly apathetic (this very powerful and vocal minority of voters) who are reluctant to amend a system they’re comfortable with. And that is understandable; after all it’s a system they feel has served them well and of which they feel in control. To them the continual cry for even a modicum of reform (that comes from the nation’s action groups, policy institutes, academics, whole schools of politics and law, to name a few), nevermind the total annihilation and a dramatic reimagination of the whole system, comes across as an unreasonable rebellion.
Electoral reform seems to be received by those happy with the status quo as something akin to insisting they throw out their favourite sweater (that one they’ve always had, that their mom gave them; the one that’s worn-in, comfortable, and keeps them warm.) The sweater’s owner feels this change is wanted just because the old sweater isn’t perfect in someone else’s eyes. The reformist, they argue, sees only that it’s missing a button, has a hole in the armpit, and its style is a little outdated. They feel the sweater still works for them, can be repaired if needed, and will be back in fashion in another decade or more. I hear these arguments and I get it; only, what we have isn’t working at all, and doesn’t work even under ideal circumstances – and, more than that, has actually proven itself to be toxic.
So given that violent revolution is, like, soooo 18th century France (like, OMG) what would peaceful, sensible political compromise look like? Well, for me, I think it’s fair to say that we don’t need more parties, as there are already too many to keep track of. And we definitely don’t need more representatives either. (Do we need better ones? I don’t really think that’s the problem either...) The whole process of having a minority of representatives making decisions on our behalf seems outmoded and obsolete (as of about 25 years ago!) Our current form of democracy is really a poorly refurbished nineteenth century idea, isn’t it? This is a practise that came about when transportation and communication over any distance at all was so comparatively slow and inconvenient as to be essentially nonexistent. Sending a representative to Ottawa then was critical when travel there, from Vancouver say, took a week or a month and the telephone and internet were not even a dream one could foresee. But instant non-local communication technologies have been common for generations now. Yet what meaningful changes have come to our electoral system or “representative”government along the way? Zero.
Today everyone in Canada could very cheaply and easily have access to the internet (and many do; whether that’s on the phone in their pocket, at home, at school, at work, or elsewhere in the community) for democratic purposes. And we all could very easily be given the right to vote on any and every issue that comes up. Particularly on more significant issues, why, I ask you, would anyone want to leave it up to a representative to get it right? (A representative you don’t really know or trust, and one that’s, by design, extremely well positioned for corruption.) What kind of strange outsourcing is this? Surely in light of the pervasiveness of social media, and like technologies, it seems scandalous that we fail to enlist these 21st century tools (or even 20th century ones) in the service of 21st century democracy. No? Is this a crazy idea? It seems to me that this is what these tools should be for (and not just for organizing a city-wide pillow fight or zombie march...)
As it is, we know that only around half (+/- 10%) of registered voters ever actually cast a ballot. (As stated earlier, the data is freely available and plain to see. This number has been pretty steady since voting began in Canada, back in 1867.) And we also know those few votes are then split between the five major parties. (10% of which, occasionally a majority of votes from one particular province, goes to a party who doesn’t actually wish to continue participating in the project that is Canada...) So on election night the winning party will only ever collect 30–40% of the ballots cast. This, as you well know, means that the ruling party, in a good election cycle, is loosely “supported” by around 10% of the Canadian population. 35% of 60% of eligible voters, minus non-eligible Canadians who wouldn’t have voted for the winning party (because they’re still human beings and citizens under government rule.) This means that the sitting government of our democracy is, in fact, slightly less popular than most theocrats, fascists, and dictators (who, when holding forced, rigged, and fictional “elections” still only manage 80–90% of the vote!) Somehow I don’t think this is what anyone has in mind when they imagine a robust democracy. And yet here we are...
Of course the depressing picture I paint here ignores a great deal. In fact, the real political landscape in our country is far worse than what I’ve proposed when you really get down to it and look at all the details with regard to who gets represented, whose voice is heard.
Even in Canada today – almost a century after winning themselves the right to vote – a very visible and very vocal majority still finds themselves essentially unrepresented in government. Women (more than half the population in Canada) comprise a mere 10% of elected caucuses and tend to hold lesser positions and play lesser roles. When First Nations, immigrants, students, and the poor – another coalition majority swathe of our Canadian mosaic – are chronically under- and even totally unrepresented it’s hard to avoid conspiratorial thoughts. No?
How, I ask you, is it possible to fail to succumb to fits of laughter or tears (choose your medicine) when people use the phrase “representative government” as a description of the Canadian political system. The fact is, when you look at the situation as it is presently constructed you see that things have changed very little since the elections of the 1800s, ones that were only open to the 10% of the population that fell into the category of Anglo, land-owning males. (A cohort that, we should note, not once managed to show up to vote in much larger numbers than seen today, yet is never accused of having been apathetic or disengaged.)
In my mind, if I’m being totally honest, thinking that the political or electoral situation has changed over the last 145 years comes across more as an act of wilful blindness and less as a lack of historical context.
Our electoral reforms to date have been so slight and so lacking in impact that pretending we live in a political world different than that of our great-grandfathers is really an inability to envision what meaningful change (actual Democracy) might look like. In fact it may just be from a lack of consideration of the meaning of words. Fair, just, representative, democracy: these words have solid definitions that are totally ignored when they’re employed in relation to our government and its formation.
Most of us know the word democracy has its origins in Greek. The word demokratía combines demos (people) and kratos (power) – “people power” or “rule by the people” – simple and beautiful. Of course demokratía is the antonym to aristokratía, “rule by elites”. None of this is a secret, nor is our history or our lofty representative intentions. We certainly all talk a good game every four years, but can anyone point to an election, a party, or a government in the history of Canada that didn’t squarely embody the rule of a tiny minority of elites, an aristokratía? Even old Tommy Douglas (“The Greatest Canadian” – rest his soul) was, along with being a progressive democratic socialist, still a White, middle-aged, land-owning, Baptist minister.
Clearly, we’re working with an archaic model, one that is markedly inefficient and resistant to change. And it can only be this way by design. As such I imagine we’re unlikely to see meaningful transformation to this dysfunctional system without serious social change. (A change in beliefs, or perspective, or demographics: what would it take? All of the above?)
I hope we can agree (but we may not) that what we need is more people engaged in the process of democracy, transforming our aristokratía into something “of the people”. But how do we do that?
In Australia they make voting mandatory and impose fines for non-voters as a way to ensure political participation. (And I regularly hear people suggesting we do the same here in Canada.) It is commonly reported that this measure brings out 95% of registered voters in the land down-under. However, if you dig around in their national election statistics it seems that about 15% of the population does not register and few of them are fined for neglecting to do so. So their claims are fishy at best. But let’s say most come out to vote, does this mean that Australia as a nation is more politically engaged? Are Australians better informed or involved in a more democratic process?
Well, it should be obvious that turnout numbers don’t correlate with engagement. For instance, while turnout is very high in Australia, Suharto’s Indonesia and Hussein’s Iraq had remarkably high turnout too. In fact, it’s not uncommon to have elections in Rwanda, Cambodia, and Uzbekistan with voter turnout of more than 90%, but I think you’ll agree that this says nothing about how democratic, free, or effective these populations are at “choosing” the government they need or want. Regardless, most Australians do obey the law and they’re also happy to suggest that mandatory voting makes their country a more robust democracy than Canada,America or other Western nations. But to be honest, this is about as hard to swallow as a spoonful of Vegemite. At the very least, just from a logic standpoint, there would seem to be an inherent contradiction between all of our associations with democracy and democratic elections (free, wilful, informed, and representative) and this friendly, sun-tanned, happy-go-lucky brand of government coercion. In my mind this form of forced voting is a joke, it’s oxymoronic, and in contrast with everything we think of when we talk about democratic values. No?
Sadly, Australia’s mandatory voting system is no joke. In fact, it can be seen to diminish democracy, and not just on their own isolated island but elsewhere too. As if they have any idea what democracy looks like, or perhaps to convince themselves and the rest of the world of the health and strength of their nation’s governance, Australia (just like the UK, Canada, the United States and others) pompously sends monitors to developing nations to supervise and scrutinize elections there. They do so while, at home on their own soil (or rather on that of their Aboriginal “hosts”) they actively employ coercive social and economic measures that take away the the only real gauge they have of public interest and participation in politics – the option to not vote.
From my experience living in Australia for several years, interacting with Australians and consuming their media, I would suggest that they’re no more interested, politically engaged, or better-informed than anyone else. But that’s just a personal anecdote. If you actually look more deeply into the situation you’ll find that Australia, in fact, while having one of the highest voter turnout rates on the planet, pairs this apparent volume with a significant void. Australia just so happens to have a higher rate of spoiled ballots than any other democracy. And I think we can safely assume many more ballots cast at random, by those forced to show up at polling stations against their will, by threat of fines or legal action. That being so, it’s easy to point to Australia as an example of a less democratic and less politically engaged nation – despite their costly attempts to rectify the situation – and not as a nation we want to emulate.
Here in Canada it’s fashionable to criticize and coerce one’s family members and neighbours into participating in what appears to me (for all the aforementioned reasons) to be mock elections. We do this, in a strange attempt to make things look legitimate (spending our treasures and energies doing so rather than fixing a broken system), by publicly arguing things like: “if you don’t vote you cannot complain” or “you have to be part of the system to change the system” and other such folksy nonsense. But of course everyone in the country is ruled by institutions and individuals they did not vote for: senators, judges, police and military personnel, heads of corporations and schools, etc. Yet we still expect (and depend upon) these people to be competent, act responsibly, and make decisions that take our best interest into account. And our country only functions so long as the public is free to point out what’s working and failing to do so, and to seek improvements. (This is what democracy is, not voting former lawyers and business people into public office.) Further, even those living in Canada who are unable to vote (children, non-citizens, inmates, etc) should, very clearly, also have every right to expect to be heard and should feel free to protest when they run into problems. Obviously! (When did this become North Korea?)
Rather than making voting mandatory, I think “democracies should value non-votes and spoiled ballots. Does this seem irrational? Probably, but stick with me for just a moment. These “non-votes” are in fact votes, and as such should count for something. Counting them is a passive way of instantly activating and re-engaging votes and voters that our current system is virtually blind to. But why should I have to “spoil” my ballot? We could at the very least place a “none of the above” box on the ballot. Why does this not exist already? This provides some opportunity for unrepresented voters to have an official, counted voice – however small. And, importantly, this selection will show up better in voting statistics and reporting and can translate into critical demographic data. As it is, when a ballot is spoiled, or someone chooses not to vote, we have no way (even in the near-trivial way I’ve suggested) of better understanding the motivations of these people. And more often than not all non-votes get lumped together as apathetic or politically retarded – by pundits, media folks, and the well-served baby-boomer cohort; when, in reality, to me at least, neither seems likely to be true. Moreover, the view of the non-voter is just as important to the whole project of citizenship and Democracy as that of the voter. In fact, I am much more interested in hearing from the unrepresented member of the electorate than from the guy who votes Liberal every election, because he’s always voted Liberal, because his father voted Liberal. In my mind it would be more democratic to fail to count the above apathetic Liberal voter than to fail to count someone who deliberately spoiled her vote as a conscientious political objector.
This non-voter issue translates into other areas of electoral reform. Many have written and spoken about changing over from the first-past-the-post system – which nobody can hope to think is even close to fair, proportional, or even represents public opinion. I think this is a very reasonable and overdue change. As we see time and again, and for no good reason at all, our current system allows for a party to win the day with a tiny minority of support (or, in other words, with a significant majority opposed to their governance.) It looks like this: imagine ten people want to go for dinner. Now pretend three are keen to go for Italian, two really want sushi, two insist on Mexican, another two would prefer burgers and beers, and the last one wants to check out that new Indian restaurant. Using our current electoral system as a model we would look at this situation and say that these folks have no choice but to go for Italian, because this was the “most popular” decision. And we say so despite knowing that such a selection is also the “least popular” by any sane accounting, with almost everyone (7/10) opposed to the idea. We claim this scheme is both fair and democratic. We passively assert that that can be no better way than this while making no discernible attempts at improving the situation. (Please notice that expanding the franchise to all sexes, colours, and creeds, and even expanding the voting age, changed this equation none.)
Our current voting system is extremely simple. Reforming things needn’t introduce complexity. Changing from first-past-the-post to single-transferable-vote, for example, would not make our electoral system as challenging as the simplest card game, board game, or sport – activities young children are able to master. And yet, maybe you’ve noticed, complexity is often considered a legitimate reason to keep things how they are. This reasoning is pretty mind-boggling really. Our current system allows you to vote for one person. (In my above analogy you choose one place you’d like to eat. "Sushi bar." End of conversation.) Single-transferable-vote allows you to select a first choice and an alternative. (“I really want to go for sushi, but I’d be happy with Mexican too.”) Sure sounds complicated and impractical doesn’t it.
Along with minor changes like the above I would also endorse a leveling the financial playing field. The amount of money a party or given candidate has to spend on their campaign has a significant impact on their ability to play the game and be successful. We all know this. Much has been said about this and the problem of funding can be clearly observed. If we’re going to pretend to call our system of government “democratic”, one’s access to financial resources simply cannot be a key factor. (Otherwise what we have is unmistakably “aristocratic”, no?)
I ask you, why shouldn’t political donations be distributed equally among all registered parties? (Notice that doing so would not change the look or feel of an election for the voter.) And if you have $1000 to contribute to the Liberal party, how is that money not better supportive of the project of democracy, the future of Canada, and even your own personal needs and aims than by being distributed throughout the system? Certainly any ruling party or political debate is strengthened most by a robust opposition. (The most dominant football team is not only boring to watch but isn’t even able to perform at it’s peak unless a formidable foe is on the field... Science is at its worst when it isn’t shored up by a vigorous and transparent system of peer review... Without Donkey Kong, Bowser, or Kuppa, Mario is just going for a long and very boring walk. Am I wrong?)
More than anything, I think a key feature in any discussion of modern democracy (and what keeps popping up in my mind as I’m writing here) is that, aside from voting, the public is not actually encouraged to participate in politics. And you can watch this happen. Our governments, police forces, and media can all be seen to actively extinguish public debate, political opposition, and virtually any form of protest – any they can’t own and frame themselves – as quickly as it emerges. It happens like an kind of reflexive, political whack-a-mole. The more popular and ambitious the project the faster, harder, and more dynamic the institutional hammer. No?
Think about Occupy Wall Street. The financial sector was engaged in massive systemic fraud (the deliberate, for-profit corruption of one of the foundational structures of our society.) Eventually this resulted in nation-wide unemployment, homelessness, and bankruptcy, with a tsunami of financial ruin and instability across the globe. And despite an irrefutable paper-trail – spelling out criminal activity across the entire sector and its networked, co-interested, multi-nationals – the consequences for those institutions and their administrators was overwhelmingly positive. To boot, much of the resuscitational boom that followed this bust went to the institutions that caused the disaster and came by way of bailout money: public funds sourced from the very pockets of the victims of this corporate malfeasance. The international public outcry that followed was widely and successfully spun as naïve, misinformed, and misdirected (despite public support from former Presidents and Vice Presidents, Harvard professors, Nobel Prize-winning economists, Pulitzer Prize-winning journalists, and other notable public intellectuals; many of our most acclaimed authors, musicians, filmmakers, and actors; as well as numerous large labour unions.) The culpable parties – including government, industry, and the media alike: those entrusted with control, oversight, and review of these critical financial utilities – took no responsibility for their actions or inactions while simultaneously being extraordinarily impelled to discredit and eventually disallow a broad-spectrum, grassroots movement calling for, well, any reasonable response whatsoever.
But even notice the outcry that erupts when a single musician or athlete takes a public stance on virtually any issue at all, as is undeniably their right. (There are many examples across time and around the globe.) Or think about the public lashing received by anyone daring to protest just about anything or even participate in a legitimate strike of any kind. The immediate response is to give politicians and their funders virtually unlimited voice across all media, where they (re)frame the debate for the rest of society. This happens in coordination with the police coming out not to serve and protect the public – their stated mandate – but to preserve the status quo. (You can find examples from any decade going back to the start of the Industrial Revolution.) In fact, things have gotten so bad that, even in our model democracies, it’s rarely seen as mention-worthy when urban para-military units (in full riot gear, carrying fully-automatic weapons, and with armoured transport backup) corral, assault, club, electrocute, and launch chemical agents at students legally and non-violently gathered in public to voice their opposition to tuition hikes, say. (New York, London, Montreal: how many examples do you want?) It’s total madness.
In light of this, and in light of all the rest of my observations here, I feel what people perceive as apathy or non-engagement is purely the shadow cast by a fixed and inherently undemocratic system. I would argue that if you build a system to be democratic, in any meaningful sense and not just in name, it will be so. In such a system, participation (rather than disenfranchisement) will happen by default and change will be a natural and essential feature, something encouraged, not seen as a dangerous infringement that defiles the (make-believe) sanctity of our political system and its honourable (make-believe) legacy.
What do you think?
Comments