For whom shall we vote on Tuesday? This is a “royal we,” of course: I would not presume to advise my readers, in making their solemn choice between the bean-counting nerd and the eco-nerd, or nerds. My more attentive readers will have grasped, anyway, what I think of all the prime ministerial candidates. Twice I have tried to unload the contents of a column over the head of Stephen Harper, whose betrayal of conservative causes I have been inclined to take personally. The other candidates do not annoy me nearly as much, since I have never been tempted to like, admire, or support any one of them.
In an election like this, if there is an attractive local candidate, one might as well vote for him (or her). I was aware of a few good men and women on the backbenches in the last Parliament—not only in the Conservative party—who impressed me as intelligent, upright, and soundly principled. Alas, most come from provinces like Saskatchewan, or otherwise very far away from the urban constituencies.
The best practical advice I could offer would be about the mechanics of the “returned ballot.” But here my expertise has expired.
In elections past, when I could find no candidate I would dream of voting for, I returned my ballot. This right was an ancient part of Canadian electoral practice, or so I still believe. The officer presents you with your ballot and the usual canned smile; you thank him in a well-bred manner. Then, to his horror, rather than walking immediately towards the voting booth, you declare: “I wish to return my ballot.”
In every case but one, the officer did not have the fondest clue what I was talking about. I then explained to him that, as I understood, should there be no candidate I wished to support, it was my right as a Canadian citizen to return my ballot. Indeed, one has no other choice, for simply not voting, or intentionally spoiling one’s ballot, would be irresponsible. One has a duty to vote that must not be shirked.
I would further explain that as returning officer, he should have a little book in which to inscribe my name, as that of an elector who has returned his ballot, so that my vote cannot possibly be confused with a spoiled ballot. Moreover, I would explain, tediously if necessary, that the matter was important because, as I understood, if there were a plurality of returned ballots in any riding, no winner could be declared. A byelection would have to be called, in which none of the previous candidates would be allowed to run again.
The idea of an aroused citizenry, forcing one byelection after another, in riding after riding, until the parties agree to run some plausible candidates, deeply appeals to me. Better yet, I should like to see a Parliament emerge with, say, five Conservatives, three Liberals, two New Democrats, and 298 independents.
The idea of mounting a national campaign to explain the returned ballot—of founding something like a “Returned Ballot Party”—has occurred to me in other moments, while sipping wine.
I wasted the better part of a morning, recently, trying to find some practical reference to “returning your ballot” on the Internet, or in Elections Canada literature. Take everything I write today as folk memory, therefore: I can find no evidence the returned ballot is still available in anything but remote municipal jurisdictions, in provinces like Manitoba.
This does not surprise me. Real democracy is something we’ve be phasing out in Canada for many decades now.
The last time I managed to convince a returning officer, in an Ontario provincial election, that such a thing as a “returned ballot” had ever existed (he was an old man with some memory of it himself), I looked eagerly to the riding result to see my (probably solitary) returned ballot displayed. But it was not: there was only a count of spoiled ballots. It struck me that I was in a position to demonstrate that the election result was invalid, as my vote, at least, had been mis-counted. For a moment I thought of making this into a mission. However, I had other priorities in my life, at that time, and gave up trying after a few pointless phone calls.
So where does this leave us (royal “us”)? It leaves us in a neighbourhood where no local candidate has been able to please us. Thus, it reduces us to comparing the parties’ national manifestos, each of which consists entirely of pandering, incoherent blather. Thus, we are further reduced to choosing between national leaders, each of whom we detest. And yet we refuse to spoil our ballot, as we reject on principle most easy ways out.
I will therefore vote for the bean-counting nerd over the eco-nerd (or nerds), as the least bad among very bad options. But only in the hope of keeping the other party (or parties) out of power. In this, I suspect I am voting with the majority.
- Robin Hoodism is on the rise - Sunday January 2, 2011 at 9:35 am
- Taking on the Reformation - Wednesday December 29, 2010 at 8:53 am
- The miserly Canadian - Wednesday December 22, 2010 at 5:23 am
