The ballots have been counted, the campaign is over, and the sun has set on another general election.

Six city councillors and the city’s mayor will sign on for four-year terms beginning Dec. 1.

I didn’t have any predictions about the results of the election because if experience has taught me anything, it’s that you can’t assume what voters are thinking.

The election predication I did make was not related to the outcome: I expected voter turnout would be below 50 per cent, and I was right.

Slightly under 2,000 ballots were included in the unofficial count, representing about 34 per cent of the eligible voter pool.

It is a conundrum that has baffled elections analysts for, well, ever: why does voter turnout decline in established democracies?

Does low voter turnout signal dwindling faith in the electoral system or does it indicate complacency and satisfaction with the status quo?

Democratic systems are considered “established” after being in place for 20 years.

Over two decades, demographics of voters and their social context can change drastically.

The globalization of democracy has been ongoing since the 1970s, when it sprung up in southern Europe. In the 1980s, it expanded to Latin America, and in the 1990s, to more African and Asian countries.

In new democracies, the voter participation rate is typically quite high.

But does that indicate enthusiasm about a novelty or the prevalence of propaganda and authoritarian influence?

In Turkmenistan, voter turnout reached an unbelievable 96 per cent in the 2012 presidential election (the country’s fourth), with overwhelming support for the incumbent authoritarian president — as in, over 90 per cent of the votes went to the man who was quietly placed in power after the previous president died.

Another factor that likely comes into play is the number of candidates or the size of the party pool in new democracies. They typically represent a diversity of viewpoints, but as time goes on and the party system takes hold, it stands to reason some of the party principles and candidates’ views assimilate.

Compulsory voting is one option that established democracies can employ to combat low voter turnout, and one which dozens of countries around the world have employed. Singapore and Australia are two examples, and both countries reported a 93 per cent voter turnout in their parliamentary elections in 2011 and 2010, respectively.

Of course, compulsory voting systems also must have an enforcement component to even work. In Australia, it will cost you $20 not to vote, but if you don’t pay your penalty and the matter goes to court, you could face a criminal conviction and a $170 fine.

In Singapore, if you don’t have a valid reason for not voting, your name will be removed from the eligible voters list and you’ll have to apply and pay a $50 fee to get back on the list in the future.

The numbers may show one thing, but numbers alone can’t shed any light on why people may stop turning out to the polls.

Plus, voter turnout doesn’t necessarily indicate voter engagement.

The International Institute for Democracy and Electoral Assistance thinks low voter turnout can be influenced by four factors: the availability of polling stations, the impact voters believe their ballots will have on the results, proportionate representation, and demographics.

With a complicated interplay of factors that can’t be measured or neatly summed up in a causal relationship, the institute has found one truth in all its political rhetoric: voter turnout isn’t indicative of the level of democracy; its “democratic-ness”, if you will.

So with all these things at play, why does voter turnout even matter?

Well, democracy is built on the principle of fairness and the legitimacy of the power going to certain people.

I vote because I like to have my fair say, not because I have absolute faith in the integrity of the system.

My vote may be one in a million, but so are those other 999,999.