How do you know an election is coming up? You don’t need to follow the news or scroll through social media. Just head to the town square or pop into your local grocery store for some milk. That’s where you’ll find them — candidates lined up, big smiles on their faces, coffee thermoses ready.
These days, campaigning feels more like a circus than a serious exchange of ideas. Coffee and giveaways take center stage, while actual conversations fall by the wayside. There’s sausage, pastries, candy, swag — and plenty of cheerful energy. The vibe is as bright and friendly as a Swedish-speaking crayfish party in Strömsö, even if you’re standing in freezing sleet in a rural supermarket parking lot in the middle of nowhere.
Do we candidates really think voters can be won over that easily? A warm sausage with discount mustard and a polite “how’s it going” — is that enough to convince someone that the grinning face on the flyer is worthy of their trust?
There’s a kind of election magic in the air. Like clockwork, candidates you haven’t seen in years suddenly reappear, bursting with cheer and good vibes. They greet everyone on the street — even those neighbors they usually avoid eye contact with. They camp outside stores handing out balloons, candy, reflectors, and peppy campaign smiles. They volunteer at local events, help out those in need, take seniors for walks, organize activities for families, and host quirky games and competitions for the whole town.
But when the election’s over, all that buzz vanishes. No more events, no more sausages, no more coffee, no more friendly greetings in the grocery aisle. The cheerful enthusiasm used to rally voters fades as quickly as grill smoke in the autumn wind beneath the Salvosenmäki lookout tower.
Wouldn’t it be more useful to hear what candidates actually think? Where they stand on pressing issues? What their hopes are for the future of our community?
Instead of comparing which party’s candy leaves the bitterest aftertaste or whose campaign sausage has the most meat, wouldn’t it be more useful to hear what candidates actually think? Where they stand on pressing issues? What their hopes are for the future of our community?
Thankfully, for those already in politics, you can look back at their records — council motions, votes, decisions — they’re all there if you’re willing to dig. But new candidates? That’s trickier. Few dare say anything meaningful out loud for fear of cracking the cheerful image they’ve built with sausages and forced smiles — just in case a potential voter disagrees.
I’ve run in several elections myself, and my gut feeling, shaped by experience, is this: standing in parking lots handing out candy and sausages doesn’t really move the needle — not if you look at the actual results. Sure, it creates a bit of atmosphere and gives people something to do. But it rarely wins new votes — barely even earns a smile.
Most people who show up are already party members or loyal supporters who know exactly who they’re voting for. Rival party tents eye each other cautiously and make polite visits in the name of co-operation. And the only truly “swing” voters are the local jokers who crack the same jokes every year, ask about the latest scandals in Parliament, then proudly declare they’ve never voted — and don’t plan to now either. “But thanks for the sausage—the one from the next tent had more meat, and the mustard was better.”
And yet, we keep playing this pre-election game, year after year. Maybe because it’s tradition. Maybe because it feels like the “right” thing to do. Or maybe, despite what logic tells us, some part of every candidate still hopes that one sausage or one quick chat could be enough to change someone’s mind.
Maybe it’s time — for both us candidates and voters — to pause and ask ourselves what really matters. Democracy isn’t a lighthearted pastime of grilling sausages and handing out balloons. It takes responsibility, substance, and real interaction. Is the price of a voter’s trust really a free snack and a smile? Or could it be something deeper—shared values, common goals, or a real conversation?