Voting in elections for people who are blind continues to be a process of indignity and a violation of our privacy and democratic right to cast a secret ballot with confidence. That we are making the choice on the ballot we intend
Only minor changes in federal, provincial and municipal elections have been made in the last 15 years. The barriers remain. .
THE CCD HORROR GAZETTE: THE PRICE OF SOME BALLOTS
edition -, July, 1999
Well-known activist Chris Stark of Ottawa claims he has discovered
something more painful than a visit to the dentist, more traumatic
even than a root canal. All you need to do to get your share of
this misery is want to vote, be visually impaired, and live in
Ontario–or does this apply to just Ontario? If you know more than
we do about that, let us know.
Our story begins a few days after Premier Mike Harris called the
1999 provincial election. An item of mail arrived at the Stark’s
home that they managed to determine–neither Chris nor his wife,
Marie, is able to read print–was an information sheet from
Elections Ontario. On enquiring, they were told that a tape
version had been ordered from the canadian National Institute for
the Blind, but that the delivery date wasn’t known; “call back in
a few weeks.” Eventually, Elections Ontario agreed to send this
material over the internet. They further requested some documentary
information indicating what provisions had been made to accommodate
blind voters. They were told that someone from Elections Ontario
would call back but it never happened, even after several reminder
phone calls.
Chapter two in this saga begins with the arrival of the enumeration
card, once again, in print only. “It would have been nice,
comments Chris in a May 24 posting, widely circulated on the
internet, “to have had some tactile marking or even a braille card
name on all cards, so that when people who are blind received them,
it would be possible to separate these cards from the junk mail.”
But the scope of Election Ontario’s poor attitude to access issues
became apparent only after the Starks realized they would not be
in their constituency on election day. “Because we could not vote
on election day, we called for information about the advance poll.
We called the Returning Office for our area for information about
advanced polls and the provisions to facilitate the casting of
secret ballots by voters who are blind. We were told that the
locations were published in the newspapers. … We were further
brusquely notified that [the official] was concerned with the needs
of “the broader masses”. The advance poll locations had not been
selected with accessibility in mind and adequate, frequent public
transportation service was not a consideration for selection.”
On advance polling eve, they managed to get through to the
province’s chief elections officer, though that encounter turned
out to be more revealing than it was confidence-building. “The
conversation,” Chris recalls, “commenced with him delivering a
lengthy lecture on why we should not use a template. He did not
recommend them. He said that thousands of templates had been
printed and circulated through the province. Very few would be
used. It was a waste of money. It was further stated that the
notched ballots were tested with eight persons who were blind.
However, he was unable to tell us how to use them to vote with
confidence.” Now the question arises, which do you require more
of to be a blind voter in Ontario–patience, or a warped sense of
humour?
These days, as far as the broadest social policy discussions go,
disability–as an issue of governmental concern–is more and more
connected with the word citizenship. That’s not simply the result
of the natural, ongoing evolutionary process of integration,
although that certainly explains part of it. Mostly, this linkage
has come about because for years, disabled advocates have insisted
that “citizenship is us,” every time they get anywhere near an
elected official or a senior civil servant.
When we represent ourselves as equal citizens, it means we’re no
longer “the less fortunate,” “the deserving poor” or “the
chronically unemployed;” it means we now must be related to non-
traditionally, with no preconceptions as to limitations, and in
accordance with the most current of sensibilities and regard. Best
of all, governments have had lots of experience relating to this
handy mental construct of the citizen. Unlike “the disabled” of
old, citizens pay taxes, always demand their full due, are
unexceptional, and can never be safely disregarded.
In consequence, features attributable to citizenship matters have
grown in importance over time for organizations like CCD. With our
agitation (and a significant assist from Canada’s Charter of
Rights), laws no longer exclude blind jurors, accommodations mean
that we are no longer second-class citizens when we provide
testimony … and then, there’s voting in Canada’s elections.
That’s probably as good a segue as any to return to the Starks to
see how they fared when it came time to cast their ballots.
Needless to say, “… it was with trepidation and uncertainty that
we faced the challenge of voting in the advance poll.” Yet they
persevered. Following an official’s instructions that featured the
confident phrase “you’ll see the signs”–they had self-identified
several times–, they surmounted the obstacle-strewn side-walk and
somehow got themselves from the bus stop to the polling station.
“While there,” says Chris, “several sighted voters came in and
voiced concern about the difficulty they experienced finding the
location.”
Since the attendant couldn’t describe how ballots should be folded,
one of the two had its voting surface exposed; so much for privacy.
Both found the circle for marking much smaller than it should have
been, smaller by far than it is for federal election ballots. But
at least the business had finally been transacted; two and a-half
hours round trip, all tolled.
Valery Anderson’s experience during the same election was also not
impressive. An official read her the candidates names, but only
which party they belonged to after she pointed out that sighted
voters had access to that information when they voted. A friend
was present who was willing to assist but, unaccountably, he was
not allowed to.
VAlery is a member of the London regional Ontarians with
Disabilities Act Committee, which made a point of connecting the
issue around that legislation with the treatment of voters with
disabilities during the recent election. The way their message
came across is something like, “if you want to know how serious
the Harris government is about the ODA, then get a load of the off-
hand way we’re being treated as voters in this election.”
Obviously, this government’s version of an ODA has little to do
with moving disabled Ontarians any closer to being a part of “the
broader masses.”