A vast stretch of northern Quebec, larger than the province of Alberta, is barely witnessing the heat of the provincial election campaign. Despite five political parties fielding candidates in the Ungava riding, campaign signs are conspicuous by their absence in many Nunavik communities. With historically low voter turnout and residents saying they feel detached from provincial politics, the race raises urgent questions about representation, accessibility, and democratic engagement in some of Canada’s most remote corners.
A Campaign That Fails to Leave a Mark
Just over three weeks before election day, not a single promotional placel could be spotted on the streets of several Nunavik villages. The silence is striking in a province where elections typically bring a flurry of lawn signs, door-knocking, and public rallies. Yet this absence does not necessarily signal a lack of effort behind the scenes.
Voter participation in the region has long been a concern. In the 2022 general election, just 30.21 per cent of eligible residents in Ungava cast a ballot, compared with a provincial average of 66.15 per cent. Over the past two decades, figures compiled by Élections Québec indicate that Indigenous communities across the province have largely disengaged from provincial elections. Since 2007, the average turnout among Indigenous voters has hovered around 19 per cent, a figure that stands in stark contrast to the close to 68 per cent seen provincewide.
The Ungava riding itself is extraordinary in both scale and demographics. It encompasses Nunavik, roughly twenty sparsely populated municipalities including Chibougamau and Chapais, and the Eeyou Istchee James Bay territory. The average resident is under 33 years of age, and more than two thirds of the population identifies as Indigenous.
Numbers compiled over the past two decades reflect how Indigenous communities in Quebec have largely turned away from participating in provincial elections.
Reaching Voters Across an Enormous Territory
With no physical signs on the ground, candidates have had to find alternative ways to make their voices heard. Liberal hopeful Sandrine Rioux told The Canadian Press that her party intends to advertise on northern radio stations and launch targeted digital campaigns on Facebook and Instagram tailored to the issues facing each community.
She also pledged that her first official trip, should she win, would be to Kuujjuaq, the administrative capital of Nunavik.
“The realities of Jamésie, Eeyou Istchee, and Nunavik are different, and our communication strategies must reflect that as well,” Rioux wrote in an email.
The Parti Québécois has pointed to its candidate, Sonia Caron, who was nominated in April and has since met with numerous organisations in the north, particularly those working in health and education. A party spokesperson said Caron had built strong ties with northern stakeholders and adapted her outreach methods accordingly, relying on phone calls and video conferences to connect with voters.
Québec solidaire faces a different challenge. Its candidate, Antoine Côté, was named late in the process. Given the sheer size of the riding and the short timeframe, the party said it was unable to post campaign signs. Instead, Côté has focused on digital content, leveraging social media platforms to spread the party’s message.
“We also have a lot of content on our various pages to try to get people interested in our ideas, given that more and more people are consuming political content online,” a spokesperson said.
Requests sent to the Conservative Party and Coalition Avenir Québec regarding their campaigns in the riding went unanswered.
What Residents Are Saying
During a recent visit to Nunavik, residents approached by journalists said they were largely unaware that a provincial election was underway. Many expressed little interest in following provincial affairs, a sentiment that underscores the disconnect between Quebec City and the far north.
Still, that detachment does not mean communities are apathetic about their future. On a warm Friday morning in early September, around twenty residents gathered at a community centre in Puvirnituq, a village of roughly 2,000 people, chatting and enjoying the unusually sunny weather. Conversations centred on pressing issues, particularly climate change and the chronic housing shortage affecting the area.
According to the 2021 census, Nunavik is home to just over 14,000 residents, and its natural growth rate is three to four times higher than the Quebec average — a demographic trend that intensifies the urgency of addressing infrastructure and environmental concerns.
Making the Ballot Accessible, Not Mandatory
Élections Québec has been clear about its approach. A spokesperson for the agency said it is not actively campaigning to boost voter turnout in Indigenous communities. Rather, the focus is on ensuring that voting is as accessible as possible.
Among the measures taken, the agency has distributed trilingual documents containing voting information in French, English, and local languages to post office boxes in Inuit, Cree, and Naskapi communities.
Those efforts include sending out trilingual documents with voting information in French, English and local languages to post office boxes in Inuit, Cree and Naskapi communities, spokesperson Julie St-Arnaud-Drolet said.
Why It Matters
The quiet campaign unfolding in Ungava is not merely a curiosity — it is a symptom of a deeper democratic deficit that affects some of Quebec’s most vulnerable and historically marginalised communities. When voter turnout sits at roughly a fifth of the provincial norm, and when residents say they did not know an election was taking place, the legitimacy of the government that emerges is inherently weakened. Climate change, housing, and healthcare are not abstract policy debates for the people of Nunavik; they are daily realities. Ensuring that northern voices are heard — whether through better outreach, stronger candidate presence, or reformed electoral mechanisms — is not a courtesy but a necessity. If Quebec truly values its bilingual and multicultural identity, it must first reckon with the silence echoing north of the 55th parallel.