Tomorrow, a federal by-election will be held in the Alberta riding1 of Battle River–Crowfoot. This should be a political non-event. The area is rock solid Conservative. The Liberals have surpassed 10% of the vote only once since 1980, and the New Democrats have never even got that much support.
But what makes this by-election remarkable, possibly unprecedented in Canadian electoral history, and perhaps without precedent in British elections either, is that the ballot paper will be completely blank.
The story begins with Kieran Szuchewycz, an Albertan citizen who sought to stand in Calgary Heritage against then Prime Minister Stephen Harper in the 2015 federal election. Elections Canada, however, required a $1,000 deposit—something Szuchewycz refused to pay. Instead, he sued the government.
His argument hinged on Section 3 of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms, which states: “Every citizen of Canada has the right to vote in an election of members of the House of Commons or of a legislative assembly and to be qualified for membership therein.” A financial barrier, he claimed, infringed that right. In 2017, Alberta’s Court of Queen’s Bench agreed. Though the ruling applied only in Alberta, Elections Canada preemptively removed the deposit requirement nationwide, leaving only the need to gather 100 nominations.
Enter the Longest Ballot Committee: an organisation that appears to exist solely to torment election officials though I could easily believe the printing industry may be quietly cheering them on2. The Committee exploited the new nomination rules, relying on the fact that electors may nominate as many candidates as they wish. All they needed were willing volunteers to stand.
They began modestly enough in the 2022 Mississauga–Lakeshore by-election, fielding 34 candidates who collectively earned just 2% of the vote. That number rose to 42 in Winnipeg South Centre in 2023 (1.9%), and then to 73 in the 2024 Toronto–St. Paul’s by-election (2.4%). That last contest caused particular problems; the ballot paper was so long it delayed the declaration of results to eight hours after the polls closed.
The Committee’s pièce de résistance3 came in the 2025 federal election, when they targeted Conservative leader Pierre Poilievre’s Carleton riding. With 74 candidates, their names spanning nearly a metre long, double columned ballot. The efforts didn’t affect the result, they won just 0.9% of the vote. But at the serious end of the counting Poilievre lost his seat.
That brings us to Battle River-Crowfoot. The Conservative MP Damien Kurek graciously resigned his seat to let Poilievre to return to the House of Commons. This time, the Longest Ballot Committee responded with 204 candidates. With the other mainstream and fringe parties, that’s 214 candidates. Even double columned, the ballot paper would be close to three metres long.
In response, Elections Canada made an extraordinary decision: for the first time in Canadian history, every ballot paper will be blank. Voters must handwrite their chosen candidate’s name, aided by a 32-page booklet listing all 214 options.
In one sense, this by-election is a safe testing ground. The seat is practically unlosable for the Conservatives, and Elections Canada has confirmed that voters won’t need perfect spelling, good news for Anglophone Albertans who might struggle with “Poilievre.”
But beyond this peculiar episode lies a deeper question: how do we balance open democratic participation with the practicalities of electoral administration? The Longest Ballot Committee may be trolling for chaos—but they’ve also highlighted the fragility of systems designed for a more restrained age.
Whether the blank ballot experiment becomes a one-off curiosity or a permanent solution remains to be seen. Either way, Canada will learn something tomorrow. Maybe Britain should be paying attention too?