The loudest voice of all

The voters of Nunavut spoke with their pencils and their ballot papers this past Monday, and for a third time they sent Nancy Karetak-Lindell to the House of Commons with — to no one’s surprise — an overwhelming share of ballots cast.

More people — 51 per cent — voted for Karetak-Lindell than the combined total of all those who cast ballots for her four opponents.

In a never-say-die campaign conducted mostly on the telephone, and on a shoe-string budget, second-place-finisher Manitok Thompson did well to squeak out a mere 16.2 per cent of the vote, edging out the NDP’s Bill Riddell (15.3 per cent), and the Conservatives’ Duncan Cunningham (14.6 per cent) for the right to call herself the election’s top-drawer loser. And with 2.9 per cent of the vote, the Green Party’s Nedd Kenney can at least say he showed up for the fight.

But the loudest voice of all on June 28 was the voice of the disillusioned and the disengaged.

More than 57 per cent of Nunavut voters gave the polling stations a pass on June 28. In this election, their silence said more about Nunavut’s true state of being than a year’s worth of political speeches and press releases.

Think about it. Nearly six of every 10 voters said no to the system. Our politicians, and our institutions, are now being shunned by growing numbers of people — a form of collective ostracism.

This is not how the people of Nunavut once approached elections and plebiscites. In more optimistic times, Nunavut was admired for its high voter turnouts. In the 1970s and 1980s, it was normal for elections at all levels to produce voter turnouts ranging up to 85 per cent and beyond.

Those days are long gone. The trend now is towards non-involvement.

For example, in the March, 2004 election that Nunavut Tunngavik Inc. held to elect a president, voter turnout stood at only 38 per cent. That’s down from the 45 per cent turnout registered in NTI’s December, 2001 election for president, and comes after an NTI publicity campaign aimed at encouraging the participation of young people.

Iqaluit’s municipal election last fall — in which four well-known people contested the mayor’s job — produced a turnout of about 56 per cent, up from the woeful 40 per cent of eligible voters who turned out in the 2000 municipal election. That’s not bad by today’s standards, but still less than the 65-70 per cent turnouts that were normal in the 1980s.

Most other municipalities produce election turnouts ranging from 25 per cent up to 50 or 60 per cent. The elections that regional Inuit associations hold to elect officers now produce turnouts of 45 per cent or less.

Why is this happening? The most likely reasons are the spirit-killing feelings of frustration and powerlessness. In the face of Nunavut’s multi-layered dysfunctions, many of our political institutions have proven themselves to be impotent. If no one has the power to do anything about poor housing, the crushing cost of living, and all the suicide and violent crime, why bother to vote?

This is a self-defeating strategy. You may have good reason to feel powerless, but refusing to vote will guarantee that you will stay that way for the rest of your life. JB