A Comparison of Electoral Systems: Canada vs. The Philippines
This article reflects on the stark contrasts between the electoral systems of Canada and the Philippines, drawing from personal experiences in both countries. It discusses recent elections in Saskatchewan and the Philippines, highlighting challenges such as political dynasties, voter ignorance, and systemic corruption. The author expresses hope for lasting change in Philippine politics, emphasizing the need for authentic representation and accountability.
SASKATOON — As the dust settles on Canada’s latest election, reflections on a tale of two electoral systems emerge. This year marked my second stint covering a federal election, following my initial experience during the 2021 vote when I found myself covering Maxime Bernier’s People’s Party of Canada at the Saskatoon Inn. My previous coverage of the provincial elections last October saw the Saskatchewan Party secure a fifth consecutive majority, despite losing ground in Regina and some areas of Saskatoon. The Saskatchewan NDP also saw an increased representation in the Legislature.
In November, local elections brought a historical win; Cynthia Block made headlines as Saskatoon’s first female mayor, while Senos Timon, who escaped civil strife in Sudan two decades ago, became the first city councillor of African descent. Having lived in Saskatoon for almost six years now, it has been enlightening to observe how elections unfold here. It’s fascinating to see minimal pomp and fanfare in the campaigning, with a focus mostly on lawn signs and flyers, starkly contrasting the energetic campaigns of the Philippines, where I grew up.
Being a native of Manila, I feel a deep connection to the upcoming elections back home, where voters will fill an extensive list of over 18,000 municipal and provincial roles, including a dozen Senate seats. Recently, I returned to Manila briefly, enduring a sweltering heat wave where temperatures spiked into the high 30s, pushing to 41 degrees Celsius. This visit coincided with the campaign period, and I braced myself for the chaos that follows.
In the Philippines, election campaigns are densely packed and loud, with campaign jingles blaring as early as 7 a.m. Candidates plaster their faces on posters all over, from streets to electric poles. It feels almost like an invasion of senses and space. The jingles, often parodies of popular songs, are hard not to notice—even more so in rural regions where campaigning can lead to violence involving hired assassins and a money-driven voter support system.
This cycle is disappointingly familiar; candidates routinely promise to champion the poor and ordinary citizens, yet many use their power to enrich friends and family. Political dynasties dominate, as many candidates come from longstanding political families entrenched in local power structures. For example, in Las Piñas, cousins representing a family that has held control since the 1960s are gearing up for a mayoral duel!
Turning to the Senate races, the mix includes some commendable figures, but the roster leans heavily on former celebrities and individuals with dubious reputations. The presence of family members already seated as incumbent senators complicates the landscape. I often wonder what prompts these candidates, particularly those with no legislative background, to seek these positions traditionally held by professionals in law and governance.
A significant hurdle for voters, especially the economically disadvantaged, is a lack of educational resources that impart the knowledge necessary to make informed choices. At times, entertainment takes precedence over pressing policy discussions; rallies focus more on engaging performances than substantive dialogue. It is disheartening that individuals like Pastor Apollo Quiboloy, found guilty of human trafficking charges, can even aspire for a Senate seat while incarcerated.
Senators are tasked with developing laws and policies that serve the collective interest. Ideally, they should engage deeply in legislative processes rather than depending solely on aides to draft their bills. During my visit, it was disheartening to see the same faces—the beggars, workers, and street vendors. They remain trapped in a cycle of patronage politics, with elected officials relying on the Filipino cultural notion of utang na loob, or the debt of gratitude, to sustain their political careers through favors.
Despite my family’s relocation to Canada, my desire remains strong for meaningful change in the Philippines. I envision a future where marginalized voices are authentically represented in the Legislature, where rights overtake privileges, and a living wage of P645 ($15 Canadian) is no longer a dream but a reality. I seek a nation where children can obtain quality education, paving their path to well-paying jobs. Above all, I long for a Philippines rooted in transparency and accountability, ensuring that public funds serve the populace instead of lining the pockets of the political elite.
In conclusion, the contrasting electoral systems in Canada and the Philippines highlight significant differences in campaigning and voter behavior. While Canada’s elections may seem understated and efficient, the Philippines grapples with chaos and longstanding issues of political dynasties and voter ignorance. The hope for true representation and accountability remains vital for future improvement in the Filipino political landscape, as the desire for change persists in the face of familiar challenges.
Original Source: www.sasktoday.ca
