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In the final days before Canada’s 2025 federal election, something curious begins to unfold. Otherwise lucid Canadians begin speaking of “momentum” with the solemnity of Newtonian law, as if political shifts followed trajectories no less inviolable than planetary motion. A party on the rise shall rise forever, we are told. One that slips shall spiral into oblivion. This is the season where numeracy masquerades as prophecy and pollsters become oracles.
It is, of course, nonsense. But it is necessary nonsense. Elections, as anyone who has read a ballot or a newspaper should know, are not contests of reason but contests of perception. And there is nothing so intoxicating to the human psyche as the illusion of certainty in an uncertain world.
The Liberal Party, long thought entombed by Trudeau fatigue, has been resurrected by an unlikely messiah: Mark Carney, former central banker, political neophyte, and inadvertent symbol of national stability. His ascent was not the fruit of electoral brilliance but the consequence of Donald Trump opening his mouth. Threats of tariffs and territorial sabre-rattling sent Canadians running not toward bold reform, but toward the safest-looking pair of loafers they could find. That pair, it turns out, is Carney.
Pierre Poilievre, meanwhile, finds himself undone by the very void Trudeau left behind. He had constructed a campaign around rage against the machine — only to find that when the machine was unplugged, rage had nowhere to go. His obsession with Trudeau, like a man angrily arguing with a cardboard cutout, now seems more compulsive than strategic.
Yet the polling volatility of the last fortnight has led many to declare that momentum is with the Conservatives. But historical data reminds us that dramatic reversals in the final five days are rare. In 2015, the Liberals maintained a gentle but firm grip on their lead. In 2019, the gap tightened, but the throne held. Momentum, to borrow a phrase, is not a wave; it is a puddle.
And now, to the voter. We are told, often by the same people who host panel shows with straight faces, that the electorate is rational, informed, deliberate. This, too, is rubbish.
The average voter is not a policy wonk in tweed but an exhausted citizen flipping through headlines and vibes. Political preference is less Coke versus Pepsi and more rooting for the home team: an act of cultural alignment, not ideological discernment.
Survey data bears this out. According to a 2023 Angus Reid report, over 60% of Canadians believe they are “above average” in political knowledge — a statistical impossibility that would make Lake Wobegon blush. Ipsos found that only 38% of voters could name more than one policy in a party platform, but 71% could identify which party they “felt” best represented them.
Democracy, then, is not a logic puzzle but a mood board.
Do people vote to feel virtuous? Undoubtedly. Elections are acts of public performance. Voters are not merely selecting leaders; they are selecting identities. To vote Liberal is, for many, to align oneself with inclusivity, climate concern, intellectual cosmopolitanism. To vote Conservative is, for others, to stake a claim for tradition, self-reliance, and irritation with institutional drift. Neither group admits they’re voting based on vibes. But they are.
Men and women differ in electoral motivation as well. Studies suggest women skew slightly more hedonic, feelings, emotions, weighing social policies and healthcare. Men, meanwhile, show higher utilitarian association with voting, often seeking candidates who affirm their worldview or punch their ideological enemies. And in both cases, identity trumps facts.
So what should parties campaign on? Not spreadsheets. Not economic forecasts. But on narrative. On coherent, digestible stories that make people feel good about themselves. Carney, the reluctant technocrat, has accidentally told the best story: calm competence in a world gone mad. Poilievre, still swinging at Trudeau’s ghost, has yet to adjust his pitch.
Roughly 10–15% of Canadian voters decide in the final three days, with a sliver choosing in the booth itself. These late deciders are not deliberative philosophers but overwhelmed shoppers choosing cereal. They are swayed by tone, by headline, by debate gaffes or viral clips. If you’re wondering why leaders speak in slogans, wonder no more.
And let us not pretend Canadians are uniquely rational. Across democracies, late decision-making and partisan tribality are standard. According to the Canadian Election Study, nearly 60% of voters identify with a party the way one identifies with a hockey team. Tribalism, not policy literacy, governs.
Boomers, meanwhile, are helping Carney not out of policy agreement but nostalgia. Trudeau Sr.’s legacy looms large, and Carney’s unflappable demeanor feels like a return to grown-up governance. That he is unelected, untested, and uncharismatic matters less than the fact that he makes older voters feel calm.
So, where does this leave us?
The Conservative base remains firm. The Liberal vote is resurgent. The NDP is bleeding. And the country is caught between a man with economic credentials and no votes, and a man with votes but no adjustment to the shifting winds.
And so here is the prediction, not by poll, but by instinct:
Pierre Poilievre will win a minority. Why? Because despite the Liberal surge, the floor for Conservative support is rock-solid. Because swing ridings will lean blue in the absence of a full red wave. Because, even among those craving Carney, many will hesitate at the final moment and fall back on the familiar.
Because I feel it.
And if that makes me irrational, then I’m merely joining the electorate in the theatre of democracy, where the curtain always falls on chaos.
