When political marketing matters more than merit, and voter participation becomes optional, it is time to ask whether our electoral system truly serves the people.
Toronto votes this month. We often assume that a democratic electoral system is better than a communist one, and in many fundamental respects, it is. Democracy gives citizens a voice, the freedom to choose their leaders, and the ability to hold them accountable. But does our current system necessarily bring the best candidates to positions of leadership? I am not convinced.
There are many factors that influence electoral outcomes: political interests, business connections, campaign financing, marketing strategies, personal networks, and, sometimes, the ignorance or passivity of voters. The result is that the most qualified candidate does not always win. Often, the person who communicates most effectively, builds the strongest network, or runs the most visible campaign has the advantage.
To be honest, I am not sure whom I will vote for this time. I suspect many Torontonians share that uncertainty, while others may vote casually—or not vote at all.
Consider the official list of candidates available through Toronto’s MyVote website. How many ordinary citizens have the time to research every candidate, examine their records, compare their proposals, and determine who is best qualified to lead our city? Most people have jobs, families, financial pressures, and other responsibilities. They simply do not have the time to investigate every contender thoroughly.
So how do we choose? Perhaps we vote for the candidate with the best marketing campaign. Perhaps we are persuaded by polished speeches, catchy slogans, or promises of dramatic change. Perhaps we choose someone who shares our ethnic background, religion, or personal values. Sometimes we vote for a familiar name rather than a proven record. But are these really the best ways to choose our leaders?
One vote, very different levels of responsibility
My father used to say in Albania that the vote of an ignorant person carries the same weight as the vote of an intellectual. In a democracy, that is the principle of political equality: every citizen’s vote counts equally. I would add that the vote of someone unwilling to work carries the same weight as the vote of someone unable to work. The vote of a struggling parent counts as much as that of a wealthy businessperson, regardless of whether the latter has acted responsibly or corruptly. The vote of an 18-year-old counts as much as that of an 81-year-old. Equality at the ballot box is essential. Yet equal voting rights do not guarantee equally informed decisions. A young voter might choose a candidate because of their popularity on TikTok. An older voter might support the same person they have voted for over several decades—or a political successor they trust out of habit. Neither age nor education automatically makes someone a better voter. The problem is that our system gives us equal voting power without ensuring that we have the information, motivation, or opportunity to use it wisely. Democracy depends not only on the right to vote but also on the willingness of citizens to exercise that right responsibly.
Could we improve the way we elect our leaders?
I do not claim to have all the answers. Many people more knowledgeable than me have studied electoral systems and proposed alternatives. Still, I believe there are ways to improve our current approach.
First, we should seriously consider mandatory voting. Voting should be treated not only as a right but also as a civic responsibility. Many people in the past fought hard for the right to vote, including women and people who were excluded because of their economic or social status. They were not simply seeking convenience; they were demanding dignity, recognition, and a voice in decisions affecting their lives. Today, when voting is available to so many of us, why do we treat it as optional?
One possibility would be to make voting compulsory, with reasonable exemptions and accommodations for people who face genuine barriers. Another would be to introduce incentives for participation. Either approach would need careful consideration, but the objective should be clear: encourage citizens to participate rather than allow a small portion of the population to decide the future of the entire city.
What if you do not trust any of the candidates? You should still have a voice. A formal “none of the above” option would allow you to attend the polling station, or vote by mail where available, and register your dissatisfaction with the choices offered. Your protest would be recorded rather than lost in your absence. A democracy should be able to distinguish between citizens who are indifferent and those who are engaged but dissatisfied.
Second, we should reconsider how Toronto chooses its mayor. In a city as large as Toronto, how many residents have a meaningful opportunity to know their mayor personally, assess their character, or evaluate their work directly? Most people experience municipal government more closely through their local councillor, who represents their neighbourhood and is more accessible to residents. Perhaps Toronto should consider a system in which voters elect their local councillors, and the elected council then chooses the mayor from among its members. This would resemble the parliamentary model, in which elected representatives select the leader of their government.Such a system could strengthen accountability to council and reduce the emphasis on personality-driven mayoral campaigns. It could also encourage cooperation among councillors rather than concentrating so much attention and power on a single citywide contest. Of course, this approach has its own disadvantages, including the possibility of political bargaining behind closed doors. Strong transparency requirements and clear accountability mechanisms would therefore be essential.
Third, we should consider a citywide voting system that gives voters more freedom to choose candidates from across Toronto. Under the current ward-based system, residents generally elect a councillor to represent their own ward. This ensures local representation, but it also means that voters cannot directly support a trusted candidate who lives or serves in another part of the city. Imagine a system in which voters could cast ballots for candidates from anywhere in Toronto. Candidates would have to persuade people across neighbourhoods, communities, and economic groups to support them. Under one possible model, the candidate receiving the most votes citywide would become mayor, while the next two candidates would become deputy mayors. Other candidates receiving the most votes would become councillors. This is only a starting proposal, and it would require substantial technical and legal work. The underlying principle deserves consideration: leaders should have to earn support beyond their immediate neighbourhood or traditional political base.
Representation should reflect the whole city
A more citywide system could encourage candidates to build broader coalitions. Business leaders would need support beyond the business community. Candidates concerned about poverty and social exclusion would have incentives to reach people across the city. Those advocating particular approaches to immigration, housing, transportation, or public safety would have to make their case to a wider electorate. It could also change the way ethnic, religious, and other community groups participate in municipal politics. For example, if Toronto’s Albanian community wanted to elect a representative who understood its concerns, it would need to organize and attract meaningful support. Under a proportional or multi-member electoral model, a sufficiently large and geographically dispersed community might have a better opportunity to elect a representative than it does under a strictly ward-based system. The larger point is that representation should not depend entirely on where a community happens to live. People with shared interests often live across many neighbourhoods, and their concerns may not fit neatly within ward boundaries.
Diversity is more than a collection of statistics
Toronto prides itself on being one of the world’s most diverse cities. But diversity should mean more than a variety of backgrounds among residents. It should also mean that people from different communities have meaningful opportunities to participate in public decision-making. Currently our council has this kind of diversity: almost 20% born out of Canada, the same born to first-generation immigrant parents, Afro-Canadian: 15.4%, South Asians 19.2%, Italian-Canadian: 15.4%, British – Canadian: 19.2% , Jewish-Canadian: 15.4%, Chinese-Canadian: 7.7%, Latin American 3.8%. Interestingly only 3.8% of the Toronto population is Jewish, but they have pretty high representation than the Chinese and South Asians who are 11% and 14% of the population. Filipinos are in the same numbers as Jewish but they don’t have any representation. Are the Jewish- Canadians more educated to be in politics or they have created easier pathways to participate in politics? The important question is not whether one community deserves more representation than another. It is whether the system gives all communities a fair opportunity to participate, compete, and be heard. A citywide or proportional electoral model might improve that opportunity, although it would not automatically guarantee a diverse council. Its success would depend on the rules, the number of seats, voter behaviour, and the willingness of candidates to build coalitions.
The responsibility belongs to all of us
No electoral system is perfect. Direct elections can give mayors a strong democratic mandate but may encourage personality-driven campaigns. Council-selected mayors can promote cooperation but may reduce the direct influence of voters over the city’s top leader. Citywide or proportional systems can broaden representation but may weaken neighbourhood accountability if they are poorly designed. The answer is not to abandon democracy or assume that another system will solve every problem. It is to recognize that democratic institutions can—and should—be improved. As Toronto prepares to vote, each of us should ask a few basic questions: Have I researched the candidates? Do I understand their proposals? Am I choosing someone because of their competence and integrity, or because their message appeals to my emotions, identity, or frustrations? Am I willing to participate even when none of the choices seems ideal?
Our vote is a right that previous generations fought to secure. It is also a responsibility to the people with whom we share our city. If we want better leaders, we must become more engaged citizens. And if our electoral system consistently rewards visibility over competence, connections over integrity, or popularity over sound judgment, then we should have the courage to examine its design. Toronto deserves more than a choice between well-marketed candidates. It deserves a political system that encourages capable leadership, meaningful participation, and fair representation. The question is not simply whom we should vote for this month. It is whether we are willing to build a better way of choosing those who govern us.
