“You may not be interested in politics. But you may be sure that politics is interested in you.”
—J. B. Priestly, author, broadcaster, veteran
You are born. The hospital in which you first meet the world has been purchased with tax dollars from generations of Canadians. Your doctors and nurses are paid with money collected from your parents and theirs, your aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, and everyone else. Already, everyone in the country has a stake in you—an investment of capital. You are named and it is notarized for your birth certificate, your passport to the rights and privileges of Canadian citizenship. You are on your way. Even though you don’t know about politics, politics already knows about you.
You are brought home. Your crib has been inspected under rigorous safety regulations. Your blanket materials have proven both safe and new. Government agencies have provided your caregivers with certified information about the nutritional value of your food—it’s right there on the jar. You develop a nasty little rash, but a quick search of the Health Canada website shows that it’s most likely nothing to worry about; with a change of soap brands, it clears right up. You are now more comfortable, so you and your folks can sleep through the night. All the while you are protected by a vast extended family of fire fighters, police officers, and EMS attendants. Before you could possibly care about politics, politics is caring for you.
You start school. You can be certain of your teachers’ competence because your government ensured that they spent years learning their craft. Tax money, collected in communities around the country, provides you with books for reading, paint for art, computers for exploring, and a safe playground for recess. With these tools at hand, you gain an inkling of your greater interests. These ideas and interactions will lead to your career and hobbies, and enable you to begin your cycle of contribution to the national neighborhood. Whether or not you choose to learn about politics, politics is learning about you.
You begin to take responsibility for your decisions. Maybe you decide to go straight to college or university, and do so through the use of a student-loan system. Maybe you fall in love and decide to settle down and raise a family; once again, hospitals and product-safety regulations become a concern. Maybe you decide to take up a skilled trade, and want assurance that your workplace is safe and that you will be paid in full and on time. Maybe you decide to become one of our soldiers or decision-makers. Whether or not you work in politics, politics is working for you.
You store the money you earn in banks and financial institutions regulated by your government. You pay taxes and begin to invest in your fellow citizens the way they have invested in you. You buy a car and rely on roads. You buy a home and rely on public utilities. You travel, become an activist, support charities, become a patron of the arts, a peewee coach—you do it all. But you must consider your number-one responsibility to your national community: you must decide whether or not you will vote. Politics shines upon every facet of your life, and you must decide whether or not you will be counted among those who make the decisions that affect your life. You may not be interested in politics. But you may be sure that politics is interested in you.
Justin Chatwin is a student of the University of Toronto and your federal NDP candidate in the riding of Eglinton-Lawrence. He wants you to vote, even if not for him.
