A Tale of Two Electoral Systems: Canada and the Philippines
This article compares the electoral processes in Canada and the Philippines, focusing on recent elections in Saskatoon and the ongoing political climate in the Philippines. The author discusses campaign styles, issues of political dynasties, voter education, and the hope for significant change in the Philippine political landscape.
SASKATOON – At this moment, Canada’s latest election results may already be final. This marks my second opportunity to cover a federal election; my first experience was in 2021 while I reported on Maxime Bernier’s People’s Party on election night at the Saskatoon Inn & Conference Centre. This was followed by a provincial election last October, where the Saskatchewan Party clinched a fifth majority, even amid losses in Regina and several ridings in Saskatoon. Meanwhile, the Saskatchewan NDP nearly doubled their representation in the Legislature.
In November, Saskatoon held city elections. Notably, former Ward 6 councillor Cynthia Block made history as the first female mayor, while Senos Timon, who fled civil war in Sudan with his family in 2000, achieved the distinction of being the city’s first council member of African descent. After nearly six years in Saskatoon, I have observed that during provincial and city campaigns, the approach to campaigning is quite understated. Mostly, I noticed lawn signs, billboards, and some flyers in mailboxes. This style is impressive, yet it stands in stark contrast to the vibrant, festive campaigning typical in the Philippines, where I previously worked on Saipan in the Northern Mariana Islands.
I was born in Manila, and soon my home country will hold significant elections, with voters set to fill an astounding 18,198 positions, including Senate seats. Recently, I returned home for a couple of weeks during a heatwave, where temperatures reached into the high 30s and peaked at 41°C. This coincided with the campaign period, which was a chaotic and, regrettably, a bit dirty scene. Campaign jingles blasted from early morning, candidates plastering their faces on posters everywhere: streets, houses, electric poles, you name it. Many campaign jingles feature catchy tunes from popular artists, like Bruno Mars, with modified lyrics promoting candidates’ platforms.
However, the atmosphere is not all fun and games. In some rural areas, rival candidates and their supporters have been targeted by assassins, while others resort to vote-buying. Since I turned 18 and first voted, I have witnessed this cycle: candidates proclaiming allegiance to the poor yet often abandoning their promises. A few genuinely work on behalf of marginalized Filipinos, but many just use their positions for personal gain.
Most candidates, particularly in rural regions, hail from political dynasties that have monopolized power for generations. They have effectively turned politics into a family enterprise, with Las Piñas—one of the National Capital Region’s urban centers—illustrating this trend. Competing cousins come from a family that has maintained political power since the 1960s.
As for those vying for the Senate, the candidate list is a mix of credible names and familiar faces, often including former entertainers. Many lack the expected qualified backgrounds, raising questions about their motivations for seeking legislative positions typically dominated by legal and economic professionals. What perplexes me is why certain individuals, already scrutinized for their past, still position themselves for public service.
The larger issue lies with Filipino voters, including the most impoverished, who often lack the necessary electoral knowledge to make informed choices. They desperately need candidates who uplift their lives—not just entertainers who dance and sing at rallies. It is disheartening that individuals like disgraced Pastor Apollo Quiboloy, currently imprisoned for serious charges, can still run for office.
Senators are supposed to propose laws and improve legislation, devoting themselves to the meticulous process of drafting bills that benefit all. During my recent visit, however, I recognized numerous familiar faces still struggling in Marilao, Bulacan province. The same individuals, from illegal lottery collectors to slum dwellers, are caught in a cycle of patronage politics. Many politicians prefer to keep citizens indebted to them, leveraging Filipino cultural norms of gratitude to maintain their political legacies.
Although my family and I reside in Canada now, I yearn for meaningful progress in the Philippines. I envision a Congress where marginalized groups receive authentic representation, where all citizens, especially those earning the minimum wage of P645 (about $15 Canadian) per day, can expect fair compensation. I hope for a nation focused on genuine education access and job security for every child, and a government embracing transparency, ensuring that taxpayer money benefits the people rather than filling the pockets of the few.
The political landscapes of Canada and the Philippines distinctly illustrate contrasting electoral processes and cultures. Canada shows a more low-key, structured approach, while the Philippines carries a vibrant yet chaotic electoral atmosphere laden with challenges such as vote-buying and political dynasties. It is crucial for Filipino citizens to become more informed voters and demand accountability to help foster a more equitable political environment for future generations.
Original Source: www.sasktoday.ca
