"And in Canada we, you know, it costs us three or $400 million to have an election. You know, it's always been my position that we shouldn't complain about that; that's the price of admission for a living in a great democracy"
About this Quote
Mercer’s doing what the best civic comedians do: smuggling a lecture inside a shrug. The line opens in that classic Canadian conversational register - “you know” twice, a little verbal snowbank that makes the point feel casual, almost accidental. That’s not filler; it’s strategy. By sounding like an ordinary guy tallying a bill, he lowers the temperature around a topic that usually arrives preloaded with outrage.
The intent is counter-programming. Elections are routinely framed as wasteful spectacles, proof that government is incompetent or bloated. Mercer flips the premise: the cost isn’t a scandal, it’s a membership fee. “Price of admission” is the key metaphor - not charity, not burden, not theft, but an entry ticket into a system where power changes hands without violence and legitimacy has to be renewed. He’s making the invisible infrastructure of democracy visible, and then daring you to treat it like a bad expense report.
Subtext: complaining about election costs often masks something else - cynicism about participation, or a wish for politics to be cheaper because that would mean it’s smaller, quieter, easier to ignore. Mercer’s punch is moral, not comedic: if you want the benefits of living in a “great democracy,” you don’t get to act surprised by the invoice.
Context matters too. In Canada, with fewer private-money theatrics than the U.S. and higher baseline trust in institutions, the “$300 or $400 million” number lands as both sticker shock and reassurance: look how modest the toll is compared to what authoritarianism, corruption, or democratic decay actually costs.
The intent is counter-programming. Elections are routinely framed as wasteful spectacles, proof that government is incompetent or bloated. Mercer flips the premise: the cost isn’t a scandal, it’s a membership fee. “Price of admission” is the key metaphor - not charity, not burden, not theft, but an entry ticket into a system where power changes hands without violence and legitimacy has to be renewed. He’s making the invisible infrastructure of democracy visible, and then daring you to treat it like a bad expense report.
Subtext: complaining about election costs often masks something else - cynicism about participation, or a wish for politics to be cheaper because that would mean it’s smaller, quieter, easier to ignore. Mercer’s punch is moral, not comedic: if you want the benefits of living in a “great democracy,” you don’t get to act surprised by the invoice.
Context matters too. In Canada, with fewer private-money theatrics than the U.S. and higher baseline trust in institutions, the “$300 or $400 million” number lands as both sticker shock and reassurance: look how modest the toll is compared to what authoritarianism, corruption, or democratic decay actually costs.
Quote Details
| Topic | Freedom |
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