Dear future self, How‚Äôs it going? How long has it been: five, six, seven days? The provincial election‚Äôs tomorrow and you (we?) won‚Äôt be reading this until Saturday, or maybe Monday (darned newspaper deadlines), so I hope you‚Äôre well and happy.
I have an important question for you. No, not that. I know I‚Äôll still have all my hair. What I need to know is, how did I vote? One day before polls open and I can‚Äôt decide. If you could tell me, it would save me a lot of stress.
Sorry, but I‚Äôm not sure how you‚Äôll get your answer to me, you being from the future and all. You could give it to your own future self, but that won‚Äôt do me much good. Try finding a time machine to send a message to me in, let‚Äôs say, three seconds ‚Ä¶ nope, nothing. Maybe the machine needs calibrating. I‚Äôll wait.
In the meantime, let me explain why this is a difficult election. Three words: fixed voting date. This is a recent innovation introduced by politicians to solve a problem only they perceive. Unfortunately, they might like the cure, but it‚Äôs the voters who suffer the unintended side effects.
The voting day may be fixed, but the unofficial start-of-campaigning date is now free to arrive at any time ‚ÄĒ days, weeks and eventually maybe even years before the officially sanctioned start-of-campaign. Why even drop a writ?
Eventually, Canada will become like the United States, with perpetual campaigns that tax the abilities of citizens to stay interested in the political process.
Under our former parliamentary system, governments needed a reason to call an election. It wasn‚Äôt enough for them to just want to maintain or increase their hold on power. More was expected of them.
If a government dissolved Parliament without a pressing need, without important issues to put in front of the electorate, voters had been known to punish them. Now a reason is unnecessary, so governments can go into elections with nothing to discuss or resolve ‚ÄĒ at least, nothing they want to discuss or resolve.
Sure, me, there are issues in this election, but the election itself is not about the issues. In fact, it doesn‚Äôt seem to be about anything at all except ‚Ä¶ well, it doesn‚Äôt seem to be about anything at all.
That would make the choice simple if there were only two parties running, since the process of elimination would therefore be very easy, but in this riding (like in most) there are three candidates. I can eliminate one without much trouble, but the next step confounds me. So, I ask you again, future self: how did we vote?
Since our system makes it almost impossible for a citizen‚Äôs vote to actually achieve what the citizen desires, a person might be tempted to not vote at all. Increasingly, it looks like the safest choice. We have three main parties in an electoral system that reflects democracy only if two candidates are vying for a seat. More and more, in every election with three or four candidates, it seems the greater the support the opposition earns, the more likely the government will win by default. Given this unlucky country‚Äôs recent electoral history, that probably means the opposing candidates will split the majority vote and vault the odd man out to power with less than half of the ballots cast ‚ÄĒ maybe even with as little as 39 per cent of them.
Now, in this election, if I don‚Äôt want to choose Candidate A (let me cite issues just this once to explain that the government man wants to destroy one of Labrador‚Äôs priceless natural treasures and I disapprove), I must vote for either Candidate B or Candidate C. I must try to determine which of them has the best chance of getting to the post before the apparent frontrunner. Unfortunately, B and C are of comparable worth and so both might attract a considerable and roughly equal number of anti-government votes.
So, future me, help yourself. Help me! How did I make sure my vote actually counted for something? There must be some way.
Please tell me I figured out what it was.
Michael Johansen is a writer
living in Labrador.