People cast their ballots on voting day for the 2021 Canadian election in Montreal, on Sept. 20, 2021.ANDREJ IVANOV/AFP/Getty Images
For all the discussion the population surge of the past couple of years has provoked, one of its most significant effects has gone largely overlooked. It has made the recent redrawing of Canada’s electoral boundaries obsolete, before it has even gone into effect.
The purpose of the redistribution, as it is called – a laborious process that began in late 2021 and was only finally proclaimed last September – was to make Canada’s ridings more equal in population, particularly as between the provinces. That’s in line with a bedrock principle of democracy, and also of Canadian federalism: representation by population.
The idea that the number of people in each riding should be roughly equal – or in other words that a province’s share of the seats in the House of Commons should be in proportion to its share of the population – is a simple extension of the principle that every vote should count equally. The “proportionate representation of the provinces” to which the British North America Act committed us was no throwaway line: there would have been no Confederation without it. (It was one of the key demands of the Liberals, or the Clear Grits, led by George Brown, the dominant party in what is now Ontario.)
And yet Canada’s constituencies differ in population to a quite remarkable degree – more than in other democracies, and more than at any time in the past.
As of the 2021 census, the smallest riding in the country, Labrador, contained fewer than 27,000 people; its largest, Edmonton-Wetaskiwin, had more than 209,000, nearly eight times as large. Effectively, that means the vote of an average Labradorian counts for eight times as much as the votes of Edmonton-Wetaskiwinians.
Outliers? Sure. But the 5 per cent of ridings at the top of the scale are still three times as large, on average, as the 5 per cent at the bottom. Compare the British Parliament, where the largest 5 per cent are only twice as large, on average, as the smallest. Or the U.S. House of Representatives, where the gap is just 31 per cent.
Another way of measuring it: Just over a quarter (28 per cent) of Canada’s ridings are within 5 per cent of the average; fewer than half (48 per cent) are even within 10 per cent. The comparable figures for the U.K. are 36 per cent and 63 per cent; the U.S., 76 per cent and 94 per cent.
The standard deviation of Canada’s ridings is 22.2 per cent of the average, compared with the U.K. at 12.3 and the U.S. at 5.8. Canada’s ridings similarly vary more in size than those in Australia (standard deviation: 9.1), New Zealand (5.5), or France (15.8).
Part of that is the usual overrepresentation of rural ridings relative to urban, as they are in most democratic countries. Harder to explain, or defend, are the vast gaps between the provinces. The average Alberta riding, with a population of more than 125,000, is nearly four times as large as the average riding in Prince Edward Island, with just 39,000. Between them, the four Atlantic provinces and three northern territories have a population of less than 2.8 million. Yet they have more seats, combined, than Alberta, with a population of 4.8 million.
As it happens, many of the smallest seats tend to vote Liberal, while those large Alberta seats tend to vote Conservative. It took a total of 43,848 votes in the last election to elect six Liberal MPs in Newfoundland, PEI and the northern territories. That was fewer, on average, than the number of votes it took to elect one MP in the six largest Conservative ridings.
Again, what this really means is that the votes of people in those small, Liberal, Atlantic ridings are worth more – many times more – than the votes of people in large, Conservative, Alberta ridings. There is absolutely no way to justify this.
And Alberta isn’t alone. Ontario and British Columbia, the two other fastest-growing provinces, are also wildly underrepresented. The average Alberta riding is nearly 15 per cent larger than the average across the country – or in other words, an Albertan’s vote is worth about 87 per cent as much as that of the average Canadian. (See chart, “Relative weight of a vote, by province.”) By the same calculus, a vote in Ontario is worth about 93 per cent of the national average, while a vote in B.C. is worth 92 per cent. By contrast, a Newfoundlander’s vote is worth 1.5 times the average, while a vote in PEI or the Territories is worth nearly three times as much. And the gap is growing.
Relative weight of a vote, by province
National average = 1.0
1.6
After redistribution (current pop.)
B.C.
N.L.
B.C.
1.5
Prairies
Prairies
N.B.
Ont.
Ont.
1.4
Que.
Que.
Sask.
Atlantic
1.3
Atlantic
N.S.
1.2
Man.
1.1
Que
1.0
Ont.
Alta.
0.9
B.C.
0.8
1901
1921
1941
1961
1981
2001
2021
Note: PEI and Territories are not included in this table
because of their extreme deviations.
THE GLOBE AND MAIL , SOURCE: ANDREW SANCTON, THE PRINCIPLE OF REPRESENTATION BY POPULATION IN CANADIAN FEDERAL POLITICS, MOWAT CENTRE, 2010, UPDATED.
Relative weight of a vote, by province
National average = 1.0
1.6
After redistribution (current pop.)
B.C.
N.L.
B.C.
1.5
Prairies
Prairies
N.B.
Ont.
Ont.
1.4
Que.
Que.
Sask.
Atlantic
1.3
Atlantic
N.S.
1.2
Man.
1.1
Que
1.0
Ont.
Alta.
0.9
B.C.
0.8
1901
1921
1941
1961
1981
2001
2021
Note: PEI and Territories are not included in this table
because of their extreme deviations.
THE GLOBE AND MAIL , SOURCE: ANDREW SANCTON, THE PRINCIPLE OF REPRESENTATION BY POPULATION IN CANADIAN FEDERAL POLITICS, MOWAT CENTRE, 2010, UPDATED.
Relative weight of a vote, by province
National average = 1.0
1.6
After redistribution (current pop.)
N.L.
B.C.
1.5
Prairies
N.B.
Ont.
1.4
Que.
Sask.
1.3
Atlantic
N.S.
1.2
Man.
1.1
Que
1.0
Ont.
Alta.
0.9
B.C.
0.8
1901
1921
1941
1961
1981
2001
2021
Note: PEI and Territories are not included in this table because of their extreme deviations.
THE GLOBE AND MAIL , SOURCE: ANDREW SANCTON, THE PRINCIPLE OF REPRESENTATION BY POPULATION IN CANADIAN FEDERAL POLITICS, MOWAT CENTRE, 2010, UPDATED.
How did it come to this? Sure, the numbers can get out of whack for a time as people move into and about the country. But you’d think we could correct for this periodically, expanding some provinces’ delegations, shrinking others: you know, like in a normal country.
The Constitution, after all, requires that the seats be redistributed between the provinces after each census, in line with movements in population. And indeed, Canada’s ridings remained relatively uniform in size until about the 1950s.
But now? Not only have we strayed far from rep by pop, but we seem determined to return to it by the slowest possible boat. The 2021 redistribution, when it goes into effect – April 23 – will add a grand total of three seats to Alberta’s representation, while Ontario and B.C. will receive just one seat apiece, expanding the House from 338 ridings to 343. For strict proportionality, the three provinces would need to be allotted not five, but 24 more seats.
But even this meagre progress has been undone by the rapid growth in population that has since occurred. As of the 2021 census, Ontario, B.C. and Alberta had a combined 63.5 per cent of the country’s population, but only 58.3 per cent of the seats – a “representation gap” of 5.2 percentage points. With redistribution, their share of the House will increase to 58.9 per cent, shrinking the gap to 4.6 percentage points: not much, but something.
But since 2021, Canada’s population has increased by more than 10 per cent: another 3.8 million people, as of today. Three-quarters of that growth has been in the three provinces mentioned, raising their share of the total to 64.5 per cent. Result: the gap has widened to 5.6 points. That’s as of today. By the time voting day finally arrives, it will probably be wider still.
How have these inequities – the phrase “rotten boroughs” comes to mind – been allowed to persist? Because, like much else in Canada, they are sewn into the Constitution – a series of compromises of principle, each one no doubt seeming defensible in its time, that have combined to tie Parliament up in knots.
For all the BNA Act’s commitment to rep by pop, the same founding document immediately departed from the principle, specifying that no province would lose any seats unless its share of the population had fallen by at least 5 per cent.
The “Senate floor” followed in 1915, a constitutional rule stipulating that no province could have fewer MPs than it had senators – a sop to the Atlantic provinces, whose relative weight in the federation was declining rapidly with the opening of the West.
That effectively froze New Brunswick and PEI’s representation in the House at or near their current levels (Nova Scotia’s still had some way to fall before it hit its floor) even as their share of the population continued to fall, ensuring they would be overrepresented in perpetuity – or until Senate reform, whichever comes first.
But the wheels really began to fall off with the passing of the “grandfather clause” by the Mulroney government in 1985 – a constitutional amendment providing that no province may have fewer seats, ever, than it had at that time. This had the practical effect of freezing Manitoba and Saskatchewan at their current allocations.
A third rule stipulates that no province that was overrepresented at the last redistribution can be underrepresented at the next – a gift from the Harper government, via the 2011 Fair Representation Act.
The 2021 redistribution exercise may well have added yet a fourth: Quebec’s representation can never be reduced, period. The initial proposal from the chief electoral officer would not only have increased Ontario, Alberta and B.C.’s representation, but – quelle horreur! – reduced Quebec’s by one, from 78 to 77 (though still more than the 75 it had in 1985).
Though hardly unprecedented – seven of the 10 provinces have lost seats at some point in our history, including Quebec, as recently as 1966 – it raised such a storm in the province that the lost seat was quickly restored. Indeed, prominent voices in the province are agitating for it to be guaranteed not just its current number of seats, but its current proportional share.
If no province can ever lose seats, then the only way to move closer to rep by pop is by adding seats to the faster-growing provinces. But the numbers of additional seats that would be required to reach equality are improbably large. If PEI, with less than one-half of 1 per cent of the population, must have no fewer than four seats, then the only way its representation in the House could be held to its proper proportion is if the House were expanded to 925 members. Slightly less improbably, to square Newfoundland’s guarantee of seven seats with rep by pop would require a House of 527.
That’s a long way from the five seats currently on order. The current process permits only the addition of a few seats – far fewer than is required – at a time, perpetuating the inequities it is supposed to erase. The most recent redistribution has already been effectively undone. And there won’t be another one until 2031. By which time, on present trends, Canada’s population will be more than 50 million, and the three provinces’ share of the population will be over two-thirds.
What is to be done? Quite simply, we must dispense with treating the provinces like sensitive children, who must never be allowed to go without prizes. Provinces should be permitted not only to gain seats, but to lose them. If a province’s population declines, so should its representation in the House.
That’s easier said than done with respect to the Senate floor: The clause was among those designated by the 1982 Constitution as amendable only by the unanimous consent of the provinces. But the “grandfather clause” and the rest could all be amended or abolished by simple act of Parliament. Or are we incapable of living up to the same basic democratic principles that apply in other countries?