This article was edited by Kyra Bredenhof
Growing up, I vividly remember tagging along with my parents every few years, as they meticulously scribbled on a tiny piece of paper and placed it into a mysterious box. When I asked if I could try, I was repeatedly told the same line: “Not yet”. I always wondered why such a simple piece of paper was treated with immense care and security – what made it so important? And if it was really that important, why didn’t I have one? My questions were naturally answered as I discovered the act of voting, and more specifically, the age limitations placed on it. In order to vote in Canada, you must be 18 years old (Government of Canada, 2025). As I’ve enteredadulthood, I’ve come to realize that many of those around me do not share the same anticipation I once had. According to Elections Canada (2026), the federal election voter turnout in 2025 was 56% among those aged 18 to 24, which is lower than any other age group. This means that out of all the young adults who are eligible to vote, just over half chose to do so. This trend has been consistent since 2004. For over 20 years, Canadian youth have left the “mysterious boxes” of democracy empty. But why?
My hypothesis was that people honestly just don’t care. But it’s not as simple as that. I believe that a lack of care – or apathy – is not necessarily an express choice; rather it can occur subconsciously. Today, young people juggle their education and social life, alongside their physical and mental health. Politics may not serve as much of a priority amidst what seems like never-ending responsibilities. I also believe that many youths may feel disconnected from the political realm. They may feel misrepresented and unheard – ironically placing politics at the bottom of their priority lists because they believe they themselves are at the bottom of the political system’s.
However, these are simply surface-level theories. I admit that there is no single answer to such a complex question, but it still piques my interest. I’ve always found politics and civic responsibility to be quite fascinating, so I decided to gain real-world insight from the people around me. I asked McMaster students if they’re voting in the upcoming municipal election, and why or why not. The answers I received varied, but the most common response I gathered is that “one vote won’t change much.” Another student says, “I don’t vote because I don’t want to involve myself in politics […] I don’t care enough for that.” While many express their blatant disinterest, others mention that it’s much more complicated than that. One student states, “I feel like [voting] is a learned habit. I came from a family that didn’t care about voting…it’s just unlikely for me to pick up that habit.”
However, I also received some strictly opposing perspectives as some students share their eagerness to vote: “I just turned 18 this year…I’m excited to vote because it’s a civic responsibility and I feel like voting is very important…It’s my first time casting a ballot.” Another student emphasizes, “I’m finally 18, which means my voice can mean something.” Some students also address ideas of representation, stating that, “It’s important to have a councillor that resonates with your beliefs… and your priorities.”
After discussing with several students at McMaster, I’ve come to the conclusion that a person’s relationship with politics is deeply personal. Each student forms a response based on their unique individual experiences and values. This means that the inherent question I have been investigating has no one-size-fits-all answer – bummer, right! But what does that say about Canada’s youth? When young people feel as if their ballot holds little meaning or influence, political participation and breaking the cycle of “learned habits” may seem redundant. However, some habits are meant to be broken. Perhaps the question we should be asking is not why young people aren’t voting, but why so many feel that their vote won’t make a difference. After all, it is these “tiny pieces of paper” that shape the future we all share.