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2018 Midterms

Asking Voters about Race: Helpful Tool or Roadmap for Suppression?

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Photo: Adapted by WhoWhatWhy from EAC (PDF) and Brutal Deluxe / Wikimedia.

This story was originally published by Who.What.Why.

Georgia is one of only eight states in the country where people are asked their race or ethnicity on voter registration forms. The other states are: Alabama, Florida, Louisiana, North Carolina, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, and Tennessee.

Most of these states have a documented history of voter suppression, and several, including Georgia, are the setting for tight races in the upcoming elections with impacts ranging from the balance of power in Congress to the mapping of congressional districts in the coming years.

But why is this done, and when did it begin? Is it a good thing to know the races and ethnicities of voters, or can election officials and lawmakers use this information to suppress racial and ethnic minorities? And, should residents of these states be required to supply their race or ethnicity to be registered to vote — or is that requirement unconstitutional?

The practice comes from the “national mail voter registration form,” a document used in nearly every state and provided by the Election Assistance Commission (EAC) — an independent, federal agency. The question about race or ethnicity is number eight on the form; many nonprofit organizations use the application in voter registration drives. Instructions for filling it out in most states include the option, “Leave blank,” under the question. But in eight states that option is omitted; people are asked to supply the information “in order to administer the Federal Voting Rights Act.”

All eight states also include the question on their own voter registration forms.

The EAC provides no other information about the question on its website; several experts consulted by WhoWhatWhy were unsure of its origin or purpose. Several assumed it was due to Section 5 of the Voting Rights Act, which required certain states to prove to the Department of Justice that any proposed changes in election procedures would not trample on the rights of minorities. Most of those states were in the South, but they did not include Tennessee, and only parts of Florida were covered. In any case, Section 5 became moot after a 2013 Supreme Court decision.

The same experts agreed that the practice of gathering data from voters on race and ethnicity has not been widely examined, either by academics or lawyers involved in voting rights.

“It’s been overlooked,” said Allan Lichtman, history professor at American University and an expert witness in more than 75 civil and voting rights cases.

Eight US states include questions about race and ethnicity on the EAC’s national voter registration forms. Photo credit: Adapted by WhoWhatWhy from EAC (PDF) and individual state forms. Credit: Who.What.Why.

Even noted authors on the subject of voting rights in the South allowed that the question’s origins are murky. “I’ve been scratching my head about this,” said J. Morgan Kousser, history and social science professor at California Institute of Technology and author of Colorblind Injustice: Minority Voting Rights and the Undoing of the Second Reconstruction.

Regardless of the practice’s origins, continuing to include the question on voter registration forms could be a “double-edged sword,” Steven F. Lawson, noted civil rights historian, told WhoWhatWhy.

“Given the long history of voter suppression in the South, it wouldn’t surprise if this information was used to discriminate,” he said. “In Georgia, with the Secretary of State running the election and running for governor, where you have tactics like 53,000 registrations being held up … it might be a way to target black voters.”

“This could be a way for states to gauge when a state is becoming more minority and that could be a trigger for adopting more discriminatory measures,” Lichtman told WhoWhatWhy.

At the same time, “from a scholarly point of view, and in the African-American community as well, it could be helpful” to have such data, Lawson said.

Knowing the race and ethnicity of voters, Kousser noted, could also be useful in the courtroom, when fighting against voter suppression, including gerrymandered districts.

Potential voters who live in the eight states that ask for this information are faced with slightly varying versions of the question, on both the national and state forms. For residents of Georgia filling out the national form, question number eight says, “You are requested to fill in this box.”

But residents of the neighboring states of North and South Carolina receive differing messages. In North Carolina, the form says, “You are required to fill in this box. However, your application will not be rejected if you fail to do so.” In South Carolina: “You are required to fill in this box. Your application may be rejected if you fail to do so.”

High school seniors who were eligible to vote and newly registered were escorted by an Atlanta-area group of community-service-oriented sorority and fraternity members to one of DeKalb County Georgia’s early voting locations in a Decatur mall, October 19, 2018. Photo: © Robin Rayne/ZUMA Wire.

This would appear to violate the National Voter Registration Act, Danielle Lang, senior legal counsel at the Campaign Legal Center, told WhoWhatWhy. “Part of [the Act] says that omissions on voter registration forms that are not material should not be reason for rejection,” she said. “For sure, suggesting that [people are] required to fill out this question is unlawful.”

“If a state is saying the application may be rejected if the question isn’t answered, it’s worth litigating,” said Lichtman, who has testified before Congress on race and ballot rejections.

At the least, “If states are suggesting that your form might be rejected if you don’t fill out the question, it might have a chilling effect, because of the history of discrimination,” he told WhoWhatWhy.

Much of the focus on voter suppression has concerned black voters. But since 1999, the question on race has included ethnicity, according to the Georgia Association of Latino Elected Officials (GALEO). Since Hispanics can be of any race, adding this category in the eight states that ask the question was an attempt to keep track of this population.

Still, Hispanics likely end up being undercounted in voter registration files, Jerry González, executive director of GALEO, told WhoWhatWhy. One reason is that Hispanics may check off both the race they identify with, and the “Hispanic/Latino” category, which then leads elections officials to classify these potential voters as “Other.”

For this reason, González, working with the University of Georgia and the National Association of Latino Elected Officials (NALEO), has used a method in several reports on Hispanic voters combining a database of 12,248 known Latino surnames, together with state data, to estimate the total number of Hispanic registered voters in Georgia.

In the most recent report, published last year, GALEO comes up with an estimated 244,190 registered Hispanic voters. The state’s figures: 162,670. That’s a 40 percent difference.

As to the propriety of including a question on race and ethnicity, Gonzalez said he sees it as a “net positive. We use it … to see the Latino community’s increase.”

In any case, only the Election Assistance Commission can answer the serious questions raised by this practice: 1) Why do only Georgia and seven other (predominantly Southern) states ask about the race and ethnicity of potential voters? 2) When did the practice begin? and 3) Are the Carolinas violating federal law by requiring voters to answer the question?

The commission’s own website says that its “responsibilities include maintaining the national mail voter registration form.” Unfortunately, the EAC did not respond to multiple queries about the form from WhoWhatWhy.

2018 Midterms

Why the Perfect Red-State Democrat Lost

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Taylor Sappington in Nelsonville, Ohio. Sappington ran in the midterm elections for state representative of Ohio’s 94th district as a Democrat. Photo: Ty Wright for The New York Times

Taylor Sappington is exactly the kind of candidate his party should want in Ohio. But he couldn’t get union support.

Taylor Sappington heard the call like so many other Democrats in the year after Nov. 8, 2016. He had seen Donald Trump coming, homing in on his little town of Nelsonville, Ohio, in the state’s impoverished Appalachian southeast. The town of 5,300 people had voted for Barack Obama twice by large margins.

Trump was Nelsonville’s pick in 2016, though it was more by default than acclamation. Trump won there with less than a majority, with 30 percent fewer votes than Obama had gotten four years earlier.

Sappington, a 27-year-old Ohio native, took this as evidence that Nelsonville was not beyond redemption, that the town where he had grown up in hard circumstances — the son of a single mother who was for a time on food stamps, living deep in the woods in a manufactured home — wasn’t really Trump country.

Not so long ago at all, Ohio was considered the quintessential swing state — it had, after all, voted for the winning presidential candidate in every election starting with 1964. Something happened this decade, though. The 2010 national “shellacking” of Democrats left a particularly strong mark in Ohio. The Republicans who assumed control of Columbus pulled off an aggressive gerrymandering of federal and state legislative districts. In 2012, when Obama won the state for the second time, Republicans held 12 of the state’s 16 congressional seats despite winning only 52 percent of the total House vote.

The state’s makeup had been trending red, too. At a time when the share of white voters without college degrees — who are fast becoming the Republican base — decreased nationwide, it held strong in Ohio. The state was drawing relatively few immigrants, its education system was sliding in national rankings and, with its smaller cities and towns falling far behind thriving Columbus, it was losing many young college grads to jobs out of state.

Not Taylor Sappington, though. He wanted to stay. He had gotten hooked on national politics in high school, around the time he read a book on Robert F. Kennedy’s 1968 campaign. And he had gotten out of Nelsonville, winning nearly a full ride to George Washington University.

Barack Obama, then a presidential candidate, at a campaign event on March 3, 2008, in Nelsonville, Ohio. Photo: Win McNamee/Getty Images

But he felt out of place in D.C. — the wealthy students who abused expensive drugs and thought nothing of paying big cover charges at clubs, the dead-eyed people in suits rushing down the sidewalks — and he’d come back to finish at Ohio University, down the road from Nelsonville, in Athens. He took a break from school to work for Obama’s 2012 campaign in Ohio. And even before he had his diploma in hand, he’d run for, and won, a seat on the Nelsonville City Council.

The council seat came with only a $100 monthly stipend. So Sappington kept working as a waiter at the Texas Roadhouse in Athens. Later on, he added another gig: fixing broken smartphone screens in partnership with his younger brother, who drove an hour each way to work as a correctional officer at the prison in Chillicothe.

Sappington was content to stick with this combination for a while. He scratched out a living while pushing his agenda on the council: finding the money to fix the town’s rutted roads, demolishing vacant homes, pushing for a mayoral system of government.

Then came 2016, which gave Trump an eight-percentage-point win in Ohio and swept in a new state representative for the district that included Nelsonville, which had been held by a Democrat for the previous eight years.

It was now held by a young Republican, Jay Edwards, who had been three years ahead of Sappington at Nelsonville-York High. He was a star quarterback who’d gone on to play linebacker at Ohio University, the scion of a prosperous local family.

Donald Trump at a campaign event on Oct. 13, 2016, in Cincinnati, Ohio. Photo: Ty Wright/Getty Images

Sappington was still mourning the election when, just a few weeks later, he confronted darkness of a different order. His longtime boyfriend — a gentle autodidact who had taught himself to build furniture and musical instruments when not working at Ruby Tuesday — committed suicide, at age 25.

At the next council meeting, Sappington spoke about the death, and the need for better mental health services in southeast Ohio. Edwards was in the audience, as both Sappington and another council member recall, and stood up to leave in the middle of his remarks. (Edwards declined to comment on the record about that meeting or the race.)

A few months later, Sappington suffered another loss: the suicide of one of his cousins. A high school friend, a former service member, was succumbing to opiate addiction.

The gloom seemed relentless. Sappington decided the best way to fight it was to have something else to think about. Late last year, he made up his mind to run against Edwards, to reclaim the 94th House District in the Ohio statehouse for the Democrats.

He knew it would be a challenge. He was young. He would be vastly outspent. On the other hand, the district had been blue until very recently, and 2018 was promising to be a strong Democratic year. And he could, at least, count on support from unions and national progressive groups.

What he didn’t reckon with was that those organizations were already making a very different sort of calculus about his district, and about Ohio in general.

In December 2017, with the help of students at Ohio University, Sappington produced an arresting two-minute campaign video that included drone footage panning over Nelsonville, with its handsome town square lined with semi-abandoned brick buildings. “Why is it that so many will grow up without parents because of this drug crisis? Why is it that our graduates struggle to find good-paying jobs?” he said in the video. “So much of this seems invisible in Columbus.”

The video was so powerful that the Ohio House Democratic Caucus played it at a fundraiser in Columbus. Sappington learned of this secondhand, he said, because he wasn’t invited to the event. In general, he was having difficulty getting assistance from party leaders in Columbus, who seemed to be ranking candidates’ eligibility for support based in large part on the money they’d been able to raise. It wasn’t easy for a waiter in the poorest corner of the state to get people to write him checks, but Sappington had been prepared for that challenge.

What he hadn’t been prepared for was the lack of organizational support. Progressive groups in Washington and New York were focused mostly on congressional seats — never mind that it was state legislatures that would determine congressional lines for the next decade.

An early voter casts her ballot at the Athens County Board of Elections office in Athens, Ohio, on Oct. 29, 2016. Photo: Ty Wright/Bloomberg via Getty Images

But most confounding were the unions. One by one, they started supporting Edwards. And not just the building-trades unions, which sometimes side with Republicans, but the Service Employees International Union and the public sector unions — AFSCME, the Ohio Education Association and Ohio Civil Service Employees Association. The only endorsements Sappington received were from the National Association of Social Workers and the Sheet Metal, Air, Rail and Transportation Workers.

He was stunned. He was about as pro-union as one could be. In his video, he had mentioned his earlier activism against the law that Ohio Republicans had pushed through in 2011, eliminating collective bargaining for public employees, which was later overturned by referendum. His mother had been active in AFSCME; his brother belonged to the Civil Service Employees Association. And Sappington himself was a low-wage service worker. Yet he was losing labor support to a Republican who had supported a state budget that effectively reduced funding for education and who was a staunch opponent of abortion rights, a position at odds with many public employee union members.

What he learned when he asked around, and what I later confirmed, was that the unions were, in many cases, making a grimly pragmatic decision in his race and others around the state. The Democrats had fallen to such a woeful level in Ohio state government that unions felt as if they had no choice but to make friends, or at least nonenemies, with some Republicans, in hopes of staving off anti-union measures such as “right-to-work” legislation and elimination of prevailing-wage standards.

For years, unions in the Midwest have rightly prided themselves on delivering the Democrats far higher margins among white working-class union members than among their nonunion brethren. But Trump had strained that bond in some unions, drawing support from many members even as their leaders had remained nominally committed to Hillary Clinton. Most unions were back on board with the Democrats in Midwestern federal and statewide races this year. In state legislative races in Ohio, though, unions hedged their bets.

The Ohio Education Association, for instance, endorsed 13 Republicans in state House races and three in State Senate races, while staying neutral in some others.

“If we were just looking at this as a partisan exercise and ‘to the winner go the spoils,’ we’d have been on the outside looking in, and we can’t let that happen,” said Scott DiMauro, vice president of the Ohio Education Association. “Republicans have supermajorities in both houses, and we’ve got to work with both parties to make progress on key issues.”

Joe Weidner, communications director for AFSCME’s statewide Council 8, gave a similar rationale. “We don’t just push the button for the Democrat,” he said. “It’s for the people who are behind us and will support us and we’ll support them. Party is important for us; we align a lot with the Democrats. But we also have Republicans we align with.”

Seen from one side, this was realpolitik. Seen from another, it was self-fulfilling fatalism, consigning the unions’ Democratic allies to permanent minority status.

Sappington forged on without the unions. His campaign’s slogan: “Health Care. Infrastructure. Integrity.” He had the help of a dedicated band of supporters, including an Ohio University student, Jordan Kelley, who was on leave from his studies while he saved money for his final semesters working at Buffalo Wild Wings. Bit by bit, Sappington raised money, bringing in about $80,000. That was enough for radio ads, postage for thousands of handwritten postcards and stipends for campaign workers.

But it was far less than the $430,000 that Edwards had raised since 2016, nearly half of which was from unions. He shared much of this largess with others in his party, which meant the unions’ money was also helping Republicans who were less pro-labor than Edwards.

In August, Sappington got the ultimate affirmation of his candidacy: He was one of 81 candidates across the entire country endorsed by Obama. That imprimatur cast the unions’ position in an even starker light: They were now lined up behind a Republican against a Democrat endorsed by the still-popular ex-president.

Other organizational backing remained slow in coming. The state House Democratic Caucus sent a young campaign manager and paid half of his salary, but he was ill-suited to rural organizing and he stayed only six weeks. Sappington struggled to get Democratic candidates for statewide office to campaign alongside him in the district. One national progressive group whose help he had sought sent no money, but did send, as a gesture of moral support, a package that included nuts and dried fruit.

On the night before the election, when other candidates might have done final phone-banking, Sappington had to report to Texas Roadhouse for a staff meeting on new food-safety measures. The next day, he traveled around the district to check on turnout levels. At night he headed to a vacation cabin in the woods that he had rented to watch election returns. His friends and family assembled to eat his mom’s chili and watch MSNBC.

Sappington sat with a laptop, monitoring the numbers trickling in from around the 94th District. Athens had turned out strongly, and he’d racked up big majorities there. But he’d been swamped in the rural areas. Edwards’ margin was the exact same as it had been against a different Democratic opponent two years ago: 58 percent to 42 percent.

The numbers were bleak for Democrats across the state. Sherrod Brown had won re-election to the Senate against a flawed opponent, by about six percentage points, but he was an anomaly. Democrats had not managed to win a single one of those gerrymandered congressional seats. They still held only four of 16, despite winning 48 percent of the congressional vote. They had lost not only the election for governor but for every other statewide office.

They’d picked up only four seats in the state House and lost one in the Senate, leaving Republican supermajorities in both chambers — this despite Democrats having won nearly a majority of total votes in those races, a sign of just how effectively gerrymandered districts were. In a way, the Democrats’ failure to make big gains had affirmed the unions’ self-protective strategy; but that failure had been partly abetted by the unions themselves.

There was another aspect, though, to the failure of the unions, state party leaders and progressive organizations to strongly support candidates like Taylor Sappington. He is a native of small-town Ohio, working-class not only in his roots but in his own livelihood: exactly the sort of elected official whom Democrats say they need to cultivate in areas where the party is losing ground.

At 9:45 p.m., Sappington slipped out of the cabin to call Jay Edwards and concede the race.

When he came back into the cabin, his face was drawn. He said that Edwards hadn’t immediately known who was calling, and a hard conversation was made harder.

“Hey, Jay,” he recalled saying. “It’s Taylor Sappington.”

“Taylor who?” said Edwards.

This story was co-published with The New York Times. It was originally published by ProPublica.

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2018 Midterms

One Goes R and One Goes D: Two ‘Most Rural’ House Districts Flip

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Maine’s 2nd Congressional District, a race between U.S. Rep. Bruce Poliquin, right, and state Rep. Jared Golden, left, is the second most rural district in the country.

Democrats defeated an incumbent Republican in the rural New York’s 19th district. Republicans returned the favor in a rural district with an open seat in Minnesota. Maine’s rural congressional districts has yet to be decided.

Democrats won a majority Tuesday in the U.S. House of Representatives that includes at least three of the top 20 most rural congressional districts in the country. A fourth remains too close to call.

The 2018 midterms demonstrated continued polarization between rural and urban voters, in many cases at or near the level of the 2016 presidential election. In eastern Kentucky’s 5th District, the most rural in the country, with 76 percent living in rural areas, incumbent Republican U.S. Rep. Hal Rogers cruised to an easy re-election, 78.9 percent to 21.1 percent—nearly as much of a margin as Donald Trump’s 79.6 percent to 17.5 percent win over Hillary Clinton in 2016.

Rural America is not a politically homogeneous region, however, and the varied results among the 20 most rural U.S. House districts reflect that.

Democrats flipped at least one seat, New York’s 19th district, as Democratic newcomer Antonio Delgado beat incumbent U.S. Rep. John Faso, 49.8 percent to 47.6 percent, according to the New York Times. Delgado only won three counties in the 63-percent-rural district, tied with three others as the eighth most rural in the U.S. Delgado’s thumping of Faso in Ulster County, in the southern part of the district nearest to New York City, sealed the victory.

Democrats may also have a chance to flip Maine’s 2nd congressional district, which is 72 percent rural, second most in the U.S. On Wednesday morning, incumbent U.S. Rep. Bruce Poliquin held 46.2 percent of the vote to Democratic challenger Jared Golden’s 45.7 percent. Because neither candidate reached a 50-percent-plus-one majority, Maine’s brand new ranked-choice voting system comes into play.

Voters ranked all the candidates on their ballots. Since neither Poliquin nor Golden won a majority, the last-place finisher—one of two independents on the ballot—will be eliminated, and majority for Poliquin or Golden, the other independent, who finished third, will be eliminated and her voters’ ballots recounted.

Republicans also flipped a seat among the top 20 most rural districts, with Republican Pete Stauber winning Minnesota’s open 8th congressional district by 50.7 percent to 45.2 percent. Democrat Joe Radinovich won precincts around Minnesota’s exurbs and the city of Duluth, but it was not enough to defeat Stauber in the rural Iron Range, where the Trump administration’s tariffs have actually boosted the iron mining industry.

Republicans also successfully defended two rural seats in open districts that were targeted by national Democrats. In southern West Virginia’s 3rd congressional district—tied for 15th most rural in the U.S.—Democratic State Senator Richard Ojeda, who won the attention of national media for his bare-knuckled populism, well outran Hillary Clinton’s 23.3 percent two years ago, but still fell short to state House Del. Carol Miller, who won 56.4 percent to 43.6 percent. Farther east, Democrats hoped to pick up Virginia’s sprawling 5th district, tied with three others as third most rural in the U.S., where Republican incumbent Tom Garrett abruptly announced alcoholism and retirement in late May. Although Democrat Leslie Cockburn won metro portions of the district in Charlottesville and Danville, she was defeated by Republican distillery owner Denver Riggleman, 53.3 percent to 46.7 percent.

Democrats also successfully defended a once-targeted district in Minnesota’s 7th district, whose agricultural economy has been hurt by Trump’s tariffs. By a 52.1 precent to 47.9 percent margin, 28-year incumbent U.S. Rep. Collin Peterson won re-election in a district that went 62-31 for Trump—the most in any district held by a Democrat. With Democrats winning a House majority, Peterson is expected to become chairman of the House Committee on Agriculture for the fourth time.

This story was originally published by the Daily Yonder.

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2018 Midterms

A Data Dive Into The Ohio Valley Midterm Election Results

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Teachers hold signs and wave at motorists on Cheat Road on Election Day, Tuesday, Nov. 6, 2018, outside Morgantown, W.Va. Photo: Jesse Wright/WVPB

The “Blue Wave” that broke in some midterm races around the country hit a “Red Wall” in the Ohio Valley, and while the Democrats will take control of the House in Washington, the partisan makeup of the Congressional delegations for Kentucky, Ohio, and West Virginia remains unchanged.

Credit: Alexandra Kanik/Ohio Valley ReSource

In the region’s two Senate races, Democrats managed to hold on to Senate seats in Ohio and West Virginia, states that voted for President Trump two years ago. In House races, some deeply red parts of the region saw very competitive races in areas where voters went heavily for Trump in 2016, but no House seats “flipped” party control in the three states.

Credit: Alexandra Kanik/Ohio Valley ReSource

Ohio Valley ReSource data reporter Alexandra Kanik created these maps to provide a comparison of the 2018 and 2016 election outcomes in the region and to provide some insight into how the vote relates to the socioeconomic conditions in the region.

The county-by-county data show the vote results compared to some important indicators, such as poverty, unemployment, and the percentage of people who have been able to obtain health care coverage.

Health care concerns loom large in a region with some of the poorest health outcomes in the country. And despite a robust national economy, many parts of the Ohio Valley still suffer persistent poverty and higher than average unemployment. Those conditions could explain why these states that voted heavily for President Trump in 2016 showed more mixed results in this year’s Congressional races.

Here’s how the midterm elections played out compared to key data on the region’s health and wealth.

Issues And Races

Democratic incumbents Sen. Sherrod Brown in Ohio and Sen. Joe Manchin in West Virginia retained their seats in states Trump won in 2016. Both Brown and Manchin campaigned hard on health care concerns and with the support of organized labor, zeroing in on household and workplace concerns.

Credit: Alexandra Kanik/Ohio Valley ReSource

Manchin targeted healthcare concerns (sometimes literally, as in this ad). He tapped into the anxiety among many West Virginians who have pre-existing conditions that could make it difficult to get health coverage without the protections offered by the Affordable Care Act.

The Kaiser Family Foundation estimates that if protections for those with pre-existing conditions were eliminated that would leave roughly a third of non-elderly adults in Kentucky, Ohio and West Virginia without affordable health care. That’s about 881,000 in Kentucky, 1.2 million in Ohio, and 392,000 in West Virginia.

The expansion of Medicaid under the Affordable Care Act greatly expanded health care coverage for residents in the three-state region.

Unions representing miners, teamsters, ironworkers, bakers, and many other workers and retirees worry that their pensions are in shaky condition, and both Brown and Manchin made support for pensions a priority. Retired union miners alone number more than 33,000 in West Virginia and Ohio.

Other national political events late in the campaign also likely played a role in the region’s races. For example, Manchin was the lone Democrat in the Senate to vote for the confirmation of Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh.

Credit: Alexandra Kanik/Ohio Valley ReSource

In some of the region’s most closely watched House races, such as Kentucky’s 6th District and West Virginia’s 3rd District, Democrats performed well in places that Trump won handily in 2016. But it was not enough for Democratic hopefuls Amy McGrath, in Kentucky, and Richard Ojeda in West Virginia. Both drew on their military backgrounds and emphasized labor and health concerns to appeal to red district voters. But incumbent Andy Barr narrowly held on in central Kentucky, and in southern West Virginia State Del. Carol Miller fended off Ojeda to claim an open seat.

Power Split

But even as the region’s Congressional delegations remain largely unchanged, those lawmakers will be returning to a radically different Washington.

Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell of Kentucky will enjoy a slightly larger advantage in the Senate due to Republican victories in states such as Indiana, Missouri, and North Dakota. And the Ohio  Valley’s handful of Democratic House members will enjoy new influence as members of the majority on important committees, something their party has not been able to do for eight years.

The next Congress will not only be divided with different party control of the House and Senate, each chamber will also reflect the sharp political divisions on display in the midterm races. Many of the remaining moderates in both parties lost. Republican House members in more moderate suburban districts were the most frequent losers, and several Democratic Senators in red states were defeated.

Sen. Manchin may well find himself feeling like a bit of an endangered species, a moderate Democrat, as the Republican majority lurches further to the right and his own caucus sorts out internal divisions.

Meanwhile, Ohio Valley voters will be looking for action on several pressing issues related to the concerns they took to the polls and the measures of well-being reflected on these maps. For example, the clock is ticking on a proposal to shore up shaky pensions and a fund to support black lung benefits for sick coal miners. Thousands of people are anxious about the future of their health care and the future of their communities struggling to turn the economic corner and overcome a deadly opioid crisis.

But the emerging political landscape in Washington is not one that promises to deliver much meaningful legislation.

This story was originally published by the Ohio Valley ReSource.

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