The ban applies to printed and broadcast material but doubtless plenty of political argument will continue to rage online today, even though it shouldn't.
But despite those reasons to relax the restriction for future elections, there probably would be popular opposition to doing so. It would be argued that those who like to vote in the relative quietness of polling day should continue to have that option. They will point out that politics online can be avoided more easily than say on radio or the outdoor advertising hoardings, which make it not as easy to select what is in your face or your ear.
And perhaps there ought to be something more quiet and solemn about today.
The law is an act of respect to the voter. It acknowledges that a vote is a precious and important decision, one that should not be made under pressure from competing parties.
There comes a point when the contenders should stop speaking, stand aside and wait while the voters think and decide.
The physical act of voting, alone in a booth, is itself a stimulus to thought. No matter how definite the voter's mind may have been before entering the booth, the pencil and the ballot paper can be an unexpected reality check.
Suddenly politics is no longer just a conversation, your decision not just a point of view. It is your mark on New Zealand's future.
The paper gives you one chance to make it. Choose a candidate for the electorate, choose a party to govern the country. You are unlikely to get another chance for three years.
Physical voting too, is facing a technological challenge. Online voting has a compelling logic. Only security concerns - ensuring nobody can vote more than once - still stand in the way of its acceptance.
It is advanced as an answer to the low participation of youth in elections that require them to go to a polling station. While it might be wondered whether an online vote for Parliament would seem like just another mouse click, just another survey, it is probably going to happen.
But for the moment, we still have votes like today's to savour. Going along to the local school or hall, running into people you know, cheerfully sharing the experience but hardly ever sharing your decision.
Polling clerks and party scrutineers are in good humour. Democracy feels decent and splendid.
Do not miss it.
Go and vote.