The campaign has finally come to an end and, tomorrow, voters will head to the polling stations to choose the country's next government.

Traditionally, the day before an election has long been referred to as the "silent day" - a period during which political parties, candidates and the media are prohibited by law from attempting to influence voters. The intention behind the legislation was understandable: to give the electorate a brief moment of calm before making its decision.

But society has changed dramatically since these rules were first introduced, and each election raises the same unavoidable question: can there really be silence anymore?

The law belongs to a different era. At the time it was drafted, communication was limited and relatively easy to regulate.

Today, information moves constantly and without interruption.

While printed newspapers must respect the restrictions and avoid publishing campaign-related material today, their online editions remain freely accessible. Reports, interviews and speeches uploaded until midnight continue to circulate and can be read at any moment. The parties' final appeals are still there for everyone to see, only a click away.

Social media makes the idea of electoral silence even more unrealistic. Candidates continue to appear on people's screens through sponsored posts, campaign videos and promotional messages. Political parties still dominate their feeds with promises, slogans and carefully crafted appeals aimed at winning support.

Even if no new material is technically uploaded today, everything published over the past weeks remains visible and shareable. In practice, the campaign never truly stops.

The same applies to the growing number of websites, blogs and online portals dedicated to local news and political commentary. Their coverage remains accessible throughout the day, together with the opinions and reactions they generate among readers.

Then there is the physical campaign material spread across the country. Billboards, banners and posters remain fixed in streets, town centres and busy roads. Their messages continue to confront the public everywhere they go. They are unmistakably political advertisements, yet they remain part of the landscape even on a day supposedly reserved for silence.

This contradiction has become increasingly evident. Newspapers and broadcasters are expected to observe strict limitations, while digital and visual campaigning continues almost uninterrupted.

And beyond what is publicly visible, there is little doubt that political activity continues privately.

Candidates will still be making calls to voters, particularly to supporters who may need encouragement to turn up at the polling stations. Political parties will continue to organise transport and assistance for those requiring help to cast their vote. Personal contact remains one of the strongest tools in any election campaign, and it certainly does not disappear because the calendar says it is "silent day".

Candidates will continue visiting localities, appearing in public spaces, meeting people informally and making their presence felt. Conversations held today are unlikely to revolve around sport or the weather. Politics will inevitably remain at the centre of discussion, even if it is done more discreetly.

The same situation will continue tomorrow, election day itself, until voting closes at 10pm. Public campaigning may officially be prohibited, but indirect influence remains impossible to eliminate entirely.

Each time an election comes, we ask the question, and we are doing it again today. Does it still make sense for the law to speak about electoral "silence" when modern communication has rendered true silence impossible?

Perhaps the principle behind the law remains valid. Giving voters time to reflect calmly before making their decision is still a worthy objective. But the reality is that the methods of communication have evolved far beyond what legislators could once have imagined.

The law continues to speak the language of another age, while elections are now fought in a permanently connected world where political messages never fully disappear.

Silent day, it seems, has become silent in name only.