Johnson is executive director of the Election Reformers Network.
The threat could hardly be clearer: Some candidates for secretary of state deny the verified outcome of the 2020 election, raising serious questions about whether they’ll reject results – and the rule of law – if they gain office.
In response, political opponents from both parties have launched efforts to defeat election deniers at the polls this fall.
Given the clear and present danger these candidates pose to our democracy, that’s a good thing. But political action committees and opposition ads, on their own, are Band-Aids. They may succeed in keeping some deniers out of power. But, with 10 states — including swing states Arizona, Michigan, Nevada and Pennsylvania — at risk of putting deniers in office this cycle alone, an electoral strategy won’t succeed everywhere, in this cycle and for the future. It also does nothing to address the rising threat that partisan poll workers will advantage their side at the precinct level.
We need to think bigger. To address the threat for the long term, as well as to help restore voters’ trust in the system, it’s time to follow the lead of almost every other advanced democracy by ensuring that impartial professionals, not partisan politicians, run elections.
There’s fresh evidence that voters in both parties want to move in this direction. A new nationwide poll commissioned by the Election Reformers Network found that 82 percent of respondents said it’s very important that election officials act in an impartial manner. Sixty-eight percent agreed that it’s difficult to trust the impartiality of election officials who are elected with a party’s backing. And clear majorities would support barring election officials from taking certain partisan steps like raising money for other candidates or overseeing decisions that could affect their own re-election.
States can use a range of approaches to move toward impartial election administration. They can make contests for chief election officials more nonpartisan, both officially and in practice. They can bar candidates from overtly political acts like supporting or fundraising for other candidates. And, just as you wouldn’t hire someone without experience as a plumber to fix a leaky pipe, states can require that candidates seeking to run elections actually have some experience, you know, running elections. Had ERN’s draft legislation requiring such experience been in place, almost all of the election-denier candidates for secretary of state would not have qualified for the ballot.
Doing more to ensure that the people who run our elections are impartial isn’t a new idea. The Carter-Baker commission, created after the 2000 presidential election, called for nonpartisan state oversight of elections to prevent a repeat of the blatant partisanship of Florida Secretary of State Katherine Harris. But states continued to muddle through with partisan systems, and the issue faded. Now, though, the rise of election deniers infiltrating election management makes clear that action is needed.
Moving to impartial election administration would help shore up faith in our system more broadly. Because most states use partisan elections to pick their chief election official, candidates for the job must win the backing of their party, and that means they have little choice but to function like partisans. This cycle alone, Ohio Secretary of State Frank LaRose endorsed fellow Republican J.D. Vance in his state’s Senate primary, calling Vance “a candidate we know can defeat the Democratic nominee.” And Colorado’s Democratic secretary of state, Jena Griswold, has chaired a political action committee raising big sums to elect Democrats.
Let’s be clear: LaRose and Griswold are operating within the political logic of a system they can’t be blamed for. But in today’s hyperpartisan era, Ohio’s Democrats could well question how fairly LaRose will administer a Senate race where he’s named his favorite, and Griswold’s extensive support for Democrats in other states could spur similar concerns among Colorado Republicans. The PAC Griswold chairs says its fighting against “Big Lie advocates running to oversee elections;” but let’s see whether it spends some cash on the more prosaic goal of simply helping Democrats win in Washington, Colorado and states where the challengers are experienced election professionals, not “Big Liers.”
In all likelihood, these candidates will do their jobs fairly in office, b ut statements and activities like these undermin e voter confidence at a time when we should be doing everything we can to restore it.
Only by reforming our system of partisan election administration can we give candidates incentives to act differently. With 2023 state legislative sessions ready to kick off in January, now is the time for lawmakers to start work on measures that can ensure election officials are qualified and impartial. Candidates running today for election official posts can publicly commit to high standards of conduct, including not fundraising for or endorsing candidates, especially candidates whose future races they will administer.
The threat to democracy posed by election denialism is so urgent that we need to use every tool available to fight back. If all we do is try to defeat this movement at the polls, we’ll be forever fighting an almost unwinnable battle. Only by taking a bolder, legally binding approach can we truly protect fair elections for the long haul.




















image of U.S. President Donald Trump is displayed on a digital billboard in Times Square in New York on April 8, 2026.
Trump is stuck between two realities. Neither serves the American people
Normally, I worry that events may overtake a column. But not so with the Iran war.
I don’t worry about running afoul of a headline or Truth Social post from the president because what is said about the situation is no longer very relevant to the reality.
On April 8, Nick Catoggio, my Dispatch colleague, dubbed an earlier stoppage with Iran “Schrödinger’s ceasefire.” This was a reference to the famous thought experiment by the physicist Erwin Schrödinger, who was trying to explain the weirdness of “superpositionality” in quantum physics. A cat in a box is both dead and alive at the same time until you open the box. Schrödinger meant to illustrate the absurdity of the idea that particles aren’t any one thing, but a “cloud of probabilities.”
The Trump administration is stuck in a word cloud of probabilities of his own making. The war is over. The war is on. The war isn’t a war. We have a deal, but we don’t have a deal, but we’re about to have a deal. We destroyed Iran’s military. No, we left it intact. We want regime change. No we don’t. We already accomplished it. We “obliterated” Iran’s nuclear program a year ago. We had to go to war in February to prevent nuclear war. The Strait of Hormuz is open, closed, or something in-between. No deal without “unconditional surrender.” Let’s make a deal!
This everything-all-at-once vibe can be disorienting, particularly since most Americans didn’t have a war with Iran on their bingo cards until the shooting had already started. President Trump didn’t prepare the country or consult with Congress beforehand because he thought it would all be a smashing success in a matter of weeks.
The miscalculation that started it all: killing Iran’s Supreme Leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, and much of Iran’s senior leadership, on the first day of the war. To “the great proud people of Iran, I say tonight that the hour of your freedom is at hand,” Trump announced on Feb. 28. “When we are finished, take over your government. It will be yours to take. This will be probably your only chance for generations.”
I support regime change in Iran and shed no tears for Khamenei or his goons. But when you start a war by killing the regime’s top leaders, it’s not unreasonable for the remaining ones to conclude that you really intend regime change.
Khamenei was a murderous fanatic, but he was a fairly cautious one. He liked to threaten closing the Strait of Hormuz or attacking our regional allies, but he was reluctant to actually do it, fearing it would invite a regime change war. The mullahs and IRGC goons believed, not unreasonably, that if they lost their grip on power, they’d be lynched by the Iranian people they’ve brutalized for decades.
By starting with a regime change war, Trump removed any reason for the regime not to go for broke. When you have nothing to lose — particularly when you are a millenarian religious fanatic — a Persian Alamo strategy makes a lot of sense.
So Iran closed the Strait of Hormuz and attacked its neighbors.
But it turns out this wasn’t the Alamo. In the contest of wills, Trump blinked. The Iranian regime’s tolerance for punishment proved — so far — to be greater than Trump’s and that of our gulf allies. Militarily we could finish the job, but that would require ground troops and much greater economic turmoil. In a conflict Trump launched unilaterally without the prior support of Congress, NATO or the American people, Trump doesn’t have the political capital for that.
But that’s only half the problem. Trump wants the war over, but he doesn’t want to pay — militarily, economically, politically — what that would cost. So he wants to make a deal that ends it. But there is no deal available that wouldn’t come at an equally undesirable cost. Any deal that looks like what President Obama struck with the Iranians would be too embarrassing to bear. But the Iranians are convinced that they can get just such a deal, and they’re willing to drag things out as long as it takes.
The result: Trump’s in a box of his own making. He thinks he can talk his way out by simply asserting a reality that doesn’t exist. When the financial markets get nervous, he announces a breakthrough that is, at best, a possibility. When the Iranians agree to a deal that looks similar to one Obama might negotiate, Trump goes back to his threats.
It can’t go on forever. But I’m sure it’ll last until long after this column is forgotten.
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.