When 57.4% of Kentucky Voters Stay Home, Something Is Wrong

Nearly two million registered Kentucky voters did not participate in Tuesday's general election. That should concern every one of us, regardless of political affiliation.

According to the Kentucky Secretary of State's unofficial election results, 3,393,480 Kentuckians were registered to vote in the November 3 general election. Of those, only 1,445,743 cast ballots.

That's a voter turnout of just 42.6%.

The remaining 57.4% — approximately 1.95 million registered voters — did not vote.

Let that sink in for a moment.

More than half of Kentucky's registered voters sat out an election that determined who would represent them in Washington, Frankfort, county courthouses, and city halls.

These are the people who make decisions about our taxes, schools, roads, law enforcement, public services, and the future of our communities.

Yet fewer than half of registered voters participated in choosing them.

Why?

Are Kentuckians simply no longer interested in politics? Have they lost confidence in the electoral process? Or has our political system become so dominated by money, powerful families, and entrenched officeholders that many people believe their votes no longer matter?

I suspect the answer involves all three.

Whenever low voter turnout becomes a topic of conversation, one of the first explanations offered is that people are too busy working to get to the polls.

I understand that people have demanding jobs. I understand that some work long hours, have families to care for, or face transportation and health problems.

Those are legitimate obstacles, and they shouldn't be dismissed.

But Kentucky provided considerable opportunities to vote in this election.

No-excuse early voting was available October 29, 30, and 31. Qualified voters also had access to excused absentee voting, including mail-in voting. On Election Day itself, polls were open from 6 a.m. until 6 p.m.

Kentucky law also provides employees who make the required advance arrangements with reasonable time off to vote — not less than four hours under KRS 118.035, with the employer permitted to specify the hours.

With all those opportunities available, I find it difficult to accept work schedules alone as an adequate explanation for nearly two million registered voters failing to participate.

Certainly, some people faced genuine hardships. Others may not have understood their voting options.

But how many simply didn't make voting a priority?

That's a question worth asking.

I've said for years that you would probably be lucky to find ten people within your circle of acquaintances who could name five elected government officials.

Not five presidents. Not five famous politicians.

Five people currently holding elected office at the local, state, or federal level.

How many people know who represents them in the Kentucky General Assembly? How many could name their county magistrate, their state senator, or the members of their local school board?

How many understand what those officials actually do?

We spend enormous amounts of time debating national politics on social media, yet the decisions that affect our daily lives most directly are frequently made by officials whose names many residents wouldn't recognize.

Perhaps part of the problem is that we have failed to teach and maintain an understanding of how government works.

And perhaps some citizens have simply stopped paying attention.

I don't pretend to know how many of Tuesday's nonvoters fall into that category. The turnout statistics cannot tell us their motivations.

But political disengagement is certainly something we need to discuss.

There's another uncomfortable possibility.

Some people may no longer believe elections are fair.

Following the 2020 presidential election, President Donald Trump and his supporters repeatedly alleged widespread election fraud and manipulation. Those claims received enormous publicity, even though investigations, recounts, and court proceedings failed to substantiate claims of widespread fraud sufficient to change the outcome.

The allegations nevertheless became part of our national political conversation.

And questions about election equipment continue.

Just last week, voters in Madison County, Kentucky, reported problems with voting machines appearing to select candidates other than those intended. The county clerk attributed the problem to machine calibration and said corrective action was taken. Those reports did not establish that votes had been fraudulently changed.

Nevertheless, incidents and allegations like these can create uncertainty among voters.

When people begin questioning whether their ballots will be counted accurately, some may conclude that participating isn't worth the effort.

That loss of confidence deserves attention. But rebuilding confidence requires facts, transparency, and accountability — not spreading unsupported accusations.

And for anyone who believes one vote cannot possibly make a difference, we have an extraordinary example right here in Rowan County.

The November 3 Morehead mayoral election was decided by a single vote.

According to WKYT's reported results, Jim Tom Trent received 574 votes, while write-in candidate Edna Schack received 573. A third candidate, Tony Netherly, received 25.

One vote separated the top two candidates.

Think about that the next time someone tells you their vote doesn't matter.

Now we come to what I believe is one of the most troubling aspects of politics in Eastern Kentucky.

A person recently commented on a social media discussion about low voter turnout that it always seems to be the same people, or the same families, running for office.

In other words, voters feel they have no real choices.

I understand that frustration.

Look at the sample ballots from Rowan County and another Eastern Kentucky county for Tuesday's election.

In Rowan County, I counted 17 elected positions or races without a competing candidate's name printed on the ballot.

In Magoffin County, voters had Republican and Democratic candidates competing for several major county offices, including county judge/executive, county clerk, sheriff, and jailer.

The difference was striking.

Of course, an uncontested listing on a printed ballot does not always mean a race is truly uncontested. Morehead's mayoral election demonstrated that perfectly. Jim Tom Trent was the only candidate whose name was printed on the ballot, but two write-in candidates challenged him, and one came within a single vote of victory.

But what about those offices where nobody mounts a serious challenge?

I've often said that in Rowan County, sometimes we don't have elections.

We have coronations.

Someone wins an office, becomes established, and remains there for years — sometimes decades — without facing meaningful opposition.

I know one local official who is beginning his ninth term in office. He's a good person, a great friend, and someone I believe has done an excellent job serving the public.

I have nothing but respect for him and his years of dedicated service.

But here's something worth considering: Throughout those nine elections, he has faced an opponent only once.

Nine terms. One contested election.

That's not a criticism of him. In fact, his continued success may very well reflect the confidence voters have in his leadership and the quality of his work.

But it does illustrate a much broader issue in local politics.

Why are so few people willing to challenge established officeholders? Is it because voters are satisfied with their representation? Or is it because potential candidates believe they cannot compete against someone with decades of experience, name recognition, and established community relationships?

There's nothing wrong with experience, longevity, or repeatedly electing someone who does a good job.

The concern isn't that good public servants keep getting reelected. It's that so few people are willing to enter the race and give voters additional choices.

I've also seen how political offices can remain within particular families.

I know a family in which three members hold elected positions. In another community, the current mayor is the son of a former mayor who has since passed away.

There is nothing inherently improper about members of the same family seeking public office. Each must earn the position through the electoral process, and relatives of elected officials can certainly be qualified in their own right.

But when the same family names dominate election after election, it can create the impression that political offices are being handed from one generation to another.

Public office is not an inheritance. It belongs to the people.

And when people begin believing otherwise, we shouldn't be surprised if some lose interest in participating.

This brings us to another problem: the increasing influence of money and political connections.

At the national level, political action committees, Super PACs, wealthy donors, and well-funded political organizations can spend enormous amounts of money attempting to influence election outcomes.

Super PACs, for example, can raise unlimited contributions for independent political spending, subject to federal rules that prohibit coordination with candidates' campaigns.

Meanwhile, an ordinary working person considering a run for office may face substantial financial obstacles.

Campaign signs cost money. Advertising costs money. Mailers, travel, events, and taking time away from work all require resources.

And even in smaller communities, name recognition and access to influential supporters can make a tremendous difference.

A candidate may have excellent qualifications, fresh ideas, and a genuine desire to serve the public.

But how does that person compete against an established officeholder with years of name recognition, extensive political connections, and substantially greater financial resources?

It can be done. Working people have won elections, and money does not guarantee victory.

But we shouldn't pretend the playing field is always level.

The right to seek public office belongs to every qualified citizen, not merely those who can afford an expensive campaign.

Several years ago, I served on our local Republican Party Executive Committee.

During that time, I attended a Republican Party convention where we were selecting individuals for positions within the party's state organization.

I remember one particular position attracting interest from more than one person.

But when the matter came before the convention, someone in a leadership role announced that Congressman Hal Rogers wanted a particular individual in that position.

Rather than seeing a competitive nomination and election process, I watched as a motion was made, seconded, and approved by voice vote.

And that was that. Hal got his supposed wishes.

I cannot personally verify what Congressman Rogers may or may not have requested behind the scenes. I can only tell you what was said at the convention and what I witnessed.

Nor am I suggesting that the procedure itself was necessarily unlawful.

But the experience left a lasting impression on me.

I had expected to see people genuinely competing for a position within the party organization. Instead, it appeared that the preferred candidate had effectively been chosen before the matter ever reached the floor.

I have liked Congressman Rogers over the years and have voted for him on numerous occasions, perhaps every time he has appeared on my ballot.

This isn't about a personal disagreement with him.

It's about a political culture in which the preferences of powerful people can carry extraordinary influence.

And that culture is hardly exclusive to Republicans. Questions about the influence of party leaders, donors, established networks, and political insiders deserve attention in both major parties.

If ordinary party members feel their voices carry little weight within their own organizations, what message does that send about the broader political process?

There's another issue that deserves attention, especially in small communities.

Too often, people vote for someone because they know them personally.

They're a friend. A relative. A neighbor. Someone they grew up with or attend church with.

Or perhaps they simply recognize the candidate's family name.

I have never believed that personal relationships should determine how someone votes.

You might be my closest friend in the world. But if I believe another candidate is better qualified to perform the duties of the office, that other candidate is going to receive my vote.

That's not disloyalty.

That's taking my responsibility as a voter seriously.

An election is not a popularity contest. It's an opportunity to place qualified individuals in positions of public trust.

We should be asking about experience, integrity, judgment, qualifications, and the ability to serve the public.

Not simply whether we like the candidate or recognize the name.

It's easy to criticize the nearly two million registered Kentuckians who didn't vote Tuesday.

And I do believe citizens should take their responsibility to participate in elections seriously.

But the political system itself deserves scrutiny.

Political parties need to encourage competitive elections rather than simply protecting incumbents.

Communities need to encourage qualified people from different backgrounds to seek public office.

Officeholders need to remember that their positions belong to the public, not to themselves, their families, or their political organizations.

Election officials must continue working to maintain transparency and public confidence in the voting process.

And voters need to demand more than familiar names and familiar promises.

If people feel they have no meaningful choices, we should ask why.

If people believe their votes don't matter, we should explain why they do.

If people believe money and powerful connections determine everything, we should examine the barriers preventing ordinary citizens from participating more fully.

And if people simply don't care enough to vote, we need to ask what has caused that indifference.

Tuesday's election should be a wake-up call.

Not because one political party won or another lost.

Not because a particular candidate was elected or defeated.

But because 57.4% of registered Kentucky voters did not participate at all.

That is a troubling level of nonparticipation in a system of government that depends upon the consent and involvement of the people.

Some stayed home because of genuine difficulties. Others may have been uninformed, disillusioned, distrustful, or simply uninterested.

We cannot know the reasons without asking the people themselves.

But one thing is certain: Staying home doesn't prevent someone from being governed. The people who win elections still make decisions affecting those who voted and those who didn't.

Democracy requires more than holding an election every few years. It requires meaningful choices, public accountability, fair competition, informed citizens, and confidence that every lawful vote will be counted.

We need more people willing to vote.

We also need more qualified people willing and able to run.

And we need political organizations and officeholders willing to welcome competition rather than fear it.

Because ultimately, the question isn't simply why 57.4% of Kentucky's registered voters stayed home.

The larger question is this: Have nearly two million Kentuckians stopped caring about who governs them — or have too many come to believe that the people who govern them have already been chosen?

Either possibility should concern us all.

The Morehead Minute welcomes thoughtful, respectful discussion on voter participation, political competition, and public accountability. This editorial reflects the author's opinions and is not an endorsement of any candidate or political party.