In October 2020, I was appointed to chair the board of elections in the North Carolina county where I live. While I’ve followed politics closely my whole life, I knew little about how the electoral system actually worked. Over the past four years, and especially during the recent election cycle, I’ve learned a great deal about election law, logistics and public perceptions of the election process. My time on the board has strengthened my confidence in our democratic system. Though news and social media portray our institutions as teetering on the brink of collapse, the day-to-day work of my election board has been remarkably free of rough politics and partisanship, despite the persistent efforts of partisan actors to influence and politicize our work.
I realize now that before my work on the board, I had been taking our electoral system for granted. Though our society celebrates democratic participation, we pay scant attention to the processes that make democracy work. During the six weeks leading up to the recent election, I saw the mechanisms of the electoral process up close. I attended board meetings once or twice a week to review hundreds of absentee ballots, appoint poll workers, approve voter registrations and assist the staff in trouble-shooting problems at polling places.
I witnessed the dedication, intelligence and patriotism of the election staff and poll workers. These citizens are often meagerly compensated yet approach their work with professionalism, calmness and fair-mindedness. Their demeanor stands in stark contrast to the combative tone and behavior of many party activists, whose interference risks threatening the integrity of the electoral process.
Contemporary politics is high drama. In the 2024 election cycle alone, we saw a former president convicted of a felony, a political party suddenly trading in one nominee for another, and two assassination attempts, among other unusual and shocking events. This drama was fueled by nonstop media attention and relentless polarization. By comparison, election work is blessedly dull, focusing on logistics, paperwork, accounting and legal compliance.
In the buildup to an election, for instance, staff members process hundreds of voter registration applications, verifying that the information submitted is accurate. Each request for an “absentee by mail” ballot generates a computerized record with a unique tracking number. Then every absentee ballot returned must be individually reviewed and approved by the board to ensure compliance with state requirements (which include voter signature, two witness signatures or notarization, and an acceptable and valid ID or an “exception form,” which each board member must review and vote upon separately).
Provisional ballots cast under unusual circumstances, such as voters arriving at the wrong precinct, are investigated case by case. Staff then provides a recommendation for each ballot, which the board must accept or reject at a post-Election Day meeting. This work is tedious and bureaucratic, and difficulties occasionally arise. Yet this crucial work usually proceeds without partisan drama or interference.
Many Americans live in sociopolitical bubbles and rarely interact with those who hold opposing political views. In communities like mine, where both parties are well represented, each side may view the other with distrust. My town, a college community nestled in the mountains of western North Carolina, is sharply polarized. Republicans often view the university as an elite institution that brings liberal college students to the community who vote in elections without understanding local issues, while Democrats often see Republicans as intent on depriving certain citizens, including students, of their right to vote.
Yet when our bipartisan election board—two Republicans and three Democrats—discusses such matters as voting sites, early voting hours and appointment of poll workers, most of our decisions are unanimous. On Election Day, when our ballot scanner, the M-100 tabulator, kicks back a poorly or incorrectly marked ballot, a bipartisan team reviews the ballot to ascertain the voter’s intent, nearly always reaching a consensus. These interactions build trust rather than breed suspicion, demonstrating the strength of a system where citizens from both parties monitor the process together.
Unlike national politics, which tends to be conducted by powerful and influential movers and shakers in affluent environments, the business of organizing elections at the local level is far less well-heeled. Our county’s 46,406 registered voters’ interests are served by a small staff in a cramped five-room office suite at the county courthouse. Our elections director makes a modest salary, the three other staff members even less. Stipends for our several dozen poll workers are financed by the state, but most poll workers admit they earn little more than money for gas. Our voting sites are in fire stations, community centers, churches and, in our most remote and thinly populated rural precinct, an auto body shop. Yet our people work hard because they believe in what they do.
When Hurricane Helene devastated our area just weeks before the election, many county employees were told to stay home. But our staff navigated washed-out roads to come into the office to process ballot applications. As the election approached, most worked late and on weekends. Poll workers demonstrated equal dedication. What motivates them all is clearly faith in our democratic system. I have been extraordinarily impressed by the election staff and volunteers, by their hard work and their commitment to ensuring that elections are efficient and voters are treated fairly. Our political system’s most high-and-mighty figures, whose campaigns depend on lucrative fundraising networks and colossal budgets, owe thanks to the devotion and often unpaid labor of citizens working in modest circumstances.
While we extol our democracy and American political traditions, we fund our elections on the cheap. This bipartisan neglect is shortsighted. Out of our county’s budget of $82 million, just a little over half a million dollars goes to elections. Shortly after the 2024 election, North Carolina’s Republican-controlled General Assembly passed a bill that would significantly shorten the time election staff have to complete the final count. Election staff informed me it couldn’t be done, even if they worked around the clock.
But when I met with a Democratic county official to discuss our 2024 budget, he had little sympathy; most administrative units in the county, he said, also consider their work to be essential, so competition for funding is fierce. Yet when a Republican legislator suddenly changed the rules for electing our county commission in a way that would benefit Republican candidates, local Democrats were suddenly eager to fund election measures that would play to their advantage.
Jockeying for partisan advantage and having knee-jerk reactions to foreseeable problems—none of this is surprising. But in a time of public doubt about the health of our democracy, it’s unfortunate that a sensible and considered approach to funding elections is lacking. It is remarkable that elections run as smoothly as they do.
The greatest challenge to our electoral process, however, isn’t funding—it’s politics. Political activists are increasingly unapologetic for their attempts to inject partisanship into the electoral process. When I first assumed my role as the election board chair, I assumed that Republicans aimed to manipulate the election process, and that, as a Democrat, it was my responsibility to fight back. But my preconceptions scattered as I learned how the board actually works—in particular, when I had to deal with the prolonged electoral crisis that unfolded after the 2020 election. I realized that all the board members shared my belief that our top priority had to be restoring public trust in elections.
Party members, I should note, do have a legitimate role to play. The presence of representatives from both parties on election boards makes it possible to address the interests of a wide range of voters. Though our local university has many Democratic voters, our county is also very rural, and in those rural areas, very Republican. Several years ago, the board considered closing a voting site in a rural precinct with few voters. But the board made a bipartisan decision to keep the precinct open because it enabled voters in that corner of the county to vote without facing excessive travel.
Our highly polarized political environment makes such bipartisan cooperation difficult. Our political parties are inclined to inject their narrow interests and fears into the electoral process. Democrats tend to fear voter disenfranchisement, while Republicans tend to fear illegal voting. The North Carolina General Assembly, controlled by Republicans since 2010, regularly passes laws that reflect Republican concerns. A controversial voter ID law, requiring a photo ID of both in-person and absentee voters, finally went into effect in 2023 after a long series of judicial challenges to its legality.
Similar concerns manifest themselves at the local level. Conservative activist groups regularly try to identify instances of illegal voting with which to pressure election boards. In 2022, I was sued (to no avail) by a Republican attorney who wanted to challenge the votes of “same-day registration” voters whose addresses had not been verified by mail, despite a permanent injunction by a federal court that prohibited such challenges.
Democrats’ concerns about people who might be prevented from voting are sometimes legitimate. They are certainly historically well-founded: The de facto disenfranchisement of many Americans, particularly during the Jim Crow era, is perhaps the United States’ greatest failure as a democracy. In 2023, North Carolina changed the rules for voter registration, making it easier for election officials to disqualify same-day registrants and thus nullify their votes. In response, a Democrat-affiliated group sued several parties, including our election board. A consent agreement, approved by a federal court, gave these disenfranchised voters the opportunity to make their case to the election board before being removed from the rolls.
Even so, Democrats are prone to exaggerating the term “disenfranchisement,” equating it not with the actual deprivation of the right to vote but with almost any voting-related inconvenience. For instance, North Carolina allows voters to use many forms of identification to prove their identity for same-day registration during early voting—but not a rental agreement or lease. When a voter was turned away for this reason and the board upheld the election staff’s decision, Democrat activists accused the board of disenfranchisement.
To be clear, neither the Republicans’ nor the Democrats’ concerns are absurd or unfounded. The problem is that both Republicans and Democrats seem increasingly prone to pursuing nakedly ideological and partisan interests, to the point of dismissing election boards’ desire to follow the law. Following the 2022 midterm elections, two Republican board members in Surry County refused to certify the results, alleging that the North Carolina State Board of Elections (which, at the time, had a Democratic majority) had not followed state law, putting the accuracy of the results in doubt. The State Board subsequently removed the Republican board members from their positions.
Following the most recent election, the Democratic majority on the Wake County election board rejected a Republican challenge to the votes of three people who cast ballots in early voting but died before Election Day. Though state law is usually interpreted as requiring voters to be alive on Election Day for their votes to count, family members argued that the ballot of a deceased veteran should be counted because he “wasn’t your average voter.” The Democrats allowed the votes of the dead to count, demonstrating that Republicans’ fears of illegal voting have some legitimacy.
Serving on an election board has helped me to better understand certain theories of democracy, notably Swiss philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s idea of the general will. Rousseau believed that in a political system based on a social contract, in which individuals agree to follow the laws to which they collectively assent, decisions must be based not on one’s particular will, reflecting individual interests and preferences, but on that of the shared will of the community (insofar as it can be discerned from individual interests and preferences). Acting solely in a way to serve one’s own interests undermines the social contract itself.
Whether or not the idea of the general will provides a complete account of democracy, it is effectively the principle that election boards are expected to follow. Precisely because they regulate political competition, election boards should not engage in political competition, confining themselves instead to establishing transparent and legally sanctioned procedures in which the competition can occur. The kinds of problems that occurred in Surry and Wake Counties are the result of the pursuit of particular—that is, partisan—interests over the general will.
Perhaps it is understandable, even a good thing, that our political system is polarized: Polarization can raise the stakes of elections and result in increased voter engagement and participation. But our electoral process should not be polarized. Election boards must seek to preserve the integrity of our system of free and fair elections, resisting attempts to bend their will to serve partisan interests.
Partisanship and its attendant fears and concerns are emblematic of the democratic experience. But democracy also depends upon laws and procedures, upon rights and responsibilities, and upon the people who ensure that millions of voters can periodically cast their ballots without worry over whether the process is conducted fairly. Those who fear that democracy is doomed or hopelessly corrupt would do well to heed this truth.
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