By Orlando Crowcroft
LIKE many people, I’ve always been on the fence about voting.
I know how it sounds, but feel in my bones that it genuinely doesn’t change anything, and that until we make sweeping changes to our political and economic system, it is pretty pointless. As a liberal, it is fair to say that I’ve had my heart broken by various centre-left governments, beginning with New Labour and running right up to the current one.
But regardless, since returning to the UK I have voted in every election, from council right up to general and, of course, on Brexit, where I joined 96% of the other people in my borough, Haringey, in voting Remain. As you may remember, much of the rest of the country went the other way.
And that’s fine. I welcomed it, actually. Brexit was – and still should be – a wake-up call for people like me that life in leafy North London, with our Ofsted-Excellent ranked schools and independent shops, is very different to life in much of the rest of the country. And that many people blame the EU and immigration for that. And that isn’t their fault, it’s ours.
But that’s a discussion for another day.
My point about voting is that even though I am sceptical about whether it is worthwhile, I actually do it because I love it. I get a little buzz on election day. I usually walk down to the school or church hall with my wife. I like seeing my name on the list. I like the little booths and the pencils and the list of names and parties. It gives me a rare sense of community, and of belonging.
I don’t always take it that seriously. In the last council elections in Haringey I voted for the Revolutionary Communists. Not because I am either a revolutionary or a communist, but because I live in a safe Labour seat and the council are one of the worst in the UK. I certainly wasn’t going to vote for the Conservatives. So yes, it was a protest vote.
I’m not one for sanctimony either. I bristle in the run-up to an election when our social media feeds are full of well-meaning pleas to “Just Vote!” or reminders that “our grandparents fought for this” and other such nonsense. I believe deciding not to vote – or boycotting an election – is an absolutely valid democratic choice. As long as it is a choice.
Which brings us back to the Channel Islands.
I’ve been thinking a lot about Guernsey lately, and specifically about its election – ahead of Jersey’s own 11 short months from now. Like many of you, I looked at the 72% turnout figure and was surprised – and slightly ashamed, if I’m honest – about that figure when compared to Jersey’s back in 2022 (41.7%), the lowest across the OECD.
Dig a little deeper, though, and you see that just 19,686 people actually voted. I’m no mathematician, but I know that 19,686 as a percentage of 66,000 (Guernsey’s population, give or take a few) isn’t 72%. Looking a little closer, and we see that just 27,316 across the island are registered to vote, including fewer than 30% of under-35s.
Something is obviously going wrong on our sister isle.
It is interesting to note that in order to register to vote in Guernsey – as in Jersey – an individual has to live in the island for two consecutive years or five in total, unlike in the UK, where you can vote in your neighbourhood from the day you move there. As a student in Manchester in 2001, I was entitled to vote in elections there despite being from Jersey.
The window for registering to vote in Guernsey and Jersey is also very small; the deadline is six weeks before the poll – compared to 11 days in the UK. That means that by the time the media coverage of an upcoming election is kicking in, the window has already closed and anyone inspired to vote during that time is disenfranchised.
In his work on the subject, Sir Mark Boleat has noted that voter registration is not well developed compared with other jurisdictions, and the proportion of voter registration is ten percentage points lower in the Island than in the UK. Wording on the voter registration form is complicated, especially for those for whom English is not a first language.
Then there is the actual voting day: 8am to 8pm in Guernsey compared to 7am to 10pm in the UK.
In a statement issued in the wake of the elections in June, Guernsey’s Registrar-General of Electors, Colette Falla, said that it was “positive to see that number signing up to the electoral roll continued to climb quickly in the final days of the sign-up period”.
She added: “We tried hard to make the process of signing-up as easy as possible, and our outreach team was out and about on an almost daily basis for several months, to ensure that the electoral roll was on everyone’s minds.”
Several months may not be enough.
I can tell you from experience that the second letter that residents receive on moving into a new flat in London is from the council checking your details for the electoral roll (the first is usually a final warning and/or court summons from the TV Licensing Authority), and that they do not give up until you have registered. It is a rolling process, and you can register anytime, regardless on whether an election is a month or years in the future.
As we look ahead to Jersey’s election in 2026, we can only wonder whether there is still time to ensure that the Island does not – once again – carry the unfortunate accolade of having the lowest turnout in the OECD. The Island has a year to get voters registered and Islanders engaged before a crucial general election. How is it going to do that?
Do you have a view on the voter turnout in either Jersey and Guernsey that you want to share? Contact Orlando by emailing orlando@allisland.media.
