New Jersey has become the first state to back away from a pandemic-driven switch to conducting elections almost entirely remotely.
Projections of declining Covid-19 cases by the spring prompted Gov. Phil Murphy's announcement Monday that the state's longtime reliance on in-person voting will resume for school board elections in April, municipal contests in May and probably the gubernatorial and legislative primaries in June.
The decision to conduct last fall's general election mainly by mail created more of a ruckus, but also more of a difference in civic participation, than in any other place that made a similar change.
The switch heralded a blizzard of criticism from voters worried about entrusting their ballots to the Postal Service, many of whom insisted on showing up at local polling stations that were supposed to be used only by the physically didabled — and furious about reports of bureaucratic snafus, including the use of outdated lists to send some ballots to dead people and multiple ballots to living people.
The system also had to endure a lawsuit from the Trump campaign, which argued the Democratic governor exceeded his authority by decreeing the alternate system. But, in the end, it seemed to work best for the Republicans.
Voters crushed the state's turnout record — 77 percent of eligible New Jerseyans cast a ballot, fully 10 points better than the nation as whole — even as the numbers voting in Democratic urban strongholds slipped while the share of people voting in GOP-friendly suburban counties soared. The results were higher-than-usual percentages for some Republican congressional candidates, although no seats changed hands. And President Biden carried the state's 14 electoral votes by 16 points, a similar margin to other recent Democratic nominees.
In the end, 86 percent of New Jersey ballots were cast using envelopes, one of the highest shares in the nation. Four years ago the number was 7 percent, one of the smallest percentages.
The local contests in the spring usually generate minimal turnout. And there is not much suspense ahead of the June primaries, when Murphy's nomination for a second term is assured and so is that of his GOP challenger, former state Rep. Jack Ciatarelli.
Murphy said he was "optimistic" that vaccination rates and declining Covid cases will allow in-person voting in June, but for now his decision only applies to the first two elections.
"As always, voters will have the availability to request a vote-by-mail ballot for any reason," he said. "We will ensure that all in person polling places adhere to safety protocols, including face covering, social distancing and frequent sanitation."
Similar turnout boosts marked the 2020 elections in the other five places that for the first time sent all registered voters an absentee ballot: California, Nevada, Vermont, almost all of Montana and Washington, D.C. None of them has decided for sure what their election systems will be for 2022 or beyond. New Jersey was pressed to make a decision because it and Virginia are the only states with elections for governor and the legislature this year.
Demonstrators rally outside the U.S. Supreme Court as justices hear oral arguments on whether President Donald Trump can deny citizenship to children born to parents who are in the United States illegally or temporarily, on Capitol Hill, in Washington, Wednesday, April 1, 2026. (AP Photo/Mariam Zuhaib)
Luz Angela Nuñez with her daughter Aisha Quershi Nuñez at their home in College Point, Queens. Photo: Mia Anzalone for Documented.
Kimberly Alvarez, 25, with her daughter Evangeline and her husband John Alvarez in Medellin, Colombia. Photo courtesy of Kimberly Alvarez.Alvarez arrived in New York City in February 2024 with her husband John Alvarez as asylum seekers from Venezuela. In April 2025, Alvarez found out she was pregnant with her first child, a baby girl. Her first reaction, she said, was fear.“How am I going to keep her alive?” she said. “That’s what I was thinking. ‘How am I going to be able to take care of her?’”At the beginning of Alvarez’s pregnancy, she said she was aware of the immigration enforcement occurring around the country, but vowed not to let it deter her from showing up to her doctor’s appointments.“When you went out, you were always on alert because you didn’t know if [ICE] might be around. I never saw anything suspicious,” Alvarez said. “But of course, you feel scared.”In October, when Alvarez was six months pregnant, her husband was detained by ICE agents at 26 Federal Plaza. When the immediate shock wore off, she obsessively checked the Online Detainee Locator System to find out where her husband went. A day later, she discovered that he was being kept at Delaney Hall detention center in New Jersey. Alvarez quickly set up an account to pay for phone calls, and every two days, she would pay about $10 for a one-hour call, updating her husband about the baby, her appointments and how she was doing.“Crying was the only way for me to release the tension,” said Alvarez, who worried that her lack of sleep and bad diet were impacting her baby. “Crying was the only way for me to release the tension.”—Kimberly AlvarezThat tension built up day by day, week by week following her husband’s arrest. Alvarez had stopped her work as a cleaner in the neighborhood’s synagogues two weeks before her husband’s detention because of her pregnancy. The plan, she said, was to rely solely on his income as a maintenance worker for “the food, the rent, everything.” Left with few choices, Kimberley had to rely on her mother’s income as a cleaner. The older woman had moved to New York from North Carolina to assist with Alvarez’s pregnancy. “I feel like I’m supposed to help my mom, not the other way around,” Alvarez said. “I felt powerless because I couldn’t do anything.”On Dec. 9, Alvarez gave birth to a daughter, Evangeline. While her baby was healthy, Alvarez’s anxieties did not go away. While she returned to cleaning synagogues a few months after Evangeline’s birth to help make ends meet, Alvarez and her daughter rarely left home. Alvarez said she felt paralyzed, getting frequent alerts from a neighborhood WhatsApp group when ICE was spotted nearby. One day, she said, ICE arrested her friend’s husband in Sunset Park, in an area where she would sometimes take Evangeline for walks.“I’m so afraid that I’ll go out and run into one of them and that they’ll take her away from me,” Alvarez said. “That’s my biggest fear, that someone will take her away from me and I won’t know where my daughter is.”In March, her husband decided to voluntarily remove himself from the United States and move back to Colombia, where he is originally from. It was a family decision, but it was not a happy one — hiring immigration lawyers was too expensive, Alvarez said, adding that staying in the U.S. felt too uncertain. 
