Can the public influence the drawing of legislative districts?
That's what graduate student Peter Miller wanted to know when he drove to Long Beach City Hall for a public hearing on redistricting.
Seventy-two people spoke at the April 2011 meeting, often offering the same request: Combine the Port of Long Beach and the city of Long Beach into a single congressional district.
The reason? Winds carry pollution from the port, one of the busiest in the country, into Long Beach itself, and residents wanted their House member to be responsive to those environmental concerns. California's commission of citizen line drawers pulled up the map and agreed. The port and city have been represented by the same person ever since.
The result of that session in Long Beach underscores how regular citizens can shape a process that's gotten an awful reputation as dominated by professional partisans. It also provides reason for optimism in light of the Supreme Court's ruling this summer that federal courts have no power to decide when the politicians have gone too far in picking their voters — and as public hearings have begun in some states in advance of the nation's political remapping for the 2020s.
Do public comments matter? The answer, it turns out, was yes.
"We didn't know what to expect," said Miller, now a 36-year-old researcher focused on redistricting and voting rights at the Brennan Center for Justice, a liberal-leaning democracy reform think tank based at New York University Law School. "We weren't sure if public comments would be accepted 10 percent of the time, 80 percent of the time. We had no idea."
Almost a decade ago he attended 22 hearings in nine Western states for a first-of-its-kind study on the influence of public input in redistricting, part of his dissertation for a doctorate at the University of California, Irvine.
Surprisingly, Miller's study found that public comments had an impact — regardless of who was listening.
While fair map advocates have pushed hardest for independent redistricting commissions to combat partisan gerrymandering, the public was just as successful at influencing the design of congressional maps drawn by state lawmakers as commissions, the study found.
About half of the "feasibly mappable comments" — or specific geographic requests — suggested at public hearings before both independent commissions and state legislators were adopted into the House district maps now in use, according to the study.
"We ultimately figured that this is a good sign," Miller said, "because the cynical approach would predict zero."
Successful strategies
All states hold public hearings during the redistricting process, either by statute or by practice.
State redistricting authorities consider various criteria when designing electoral districts, such as compactness, contiguity and existing boundaries of political subdivisions. Ensuring equal population and racial fairness are nonnegotiable.
In 27 states, redistricting authorities are also mandated to preserve so-called communities of interest. These are geographic areas in which people share common interests but aren't necessarily bound by political subdivisions, so the common bond isn't always obvious to political cartographers.
Helping redistricting authorities understand where communities of interest exist is one of the crucial roles the public can play in the redistricting process and why public hearings matter, Celina Stewart, director of litigation and advocacy at League of Women Voters, said.
"Community of interest is not just the things you want for your community, but it's also your grievances — issues that you have, things that you need to protect, whether that's your school, libraries, having certain communities stay together," Stewart said. "All of those things matter."
Long Beach residents wanting the port in their House district, to bind their representative to the port's environmental impact, is an example of a grievance aired and rectified through a public hearing. (Democrat Alan Lowenthal, who's held the 47th District with ease since it was reconfigured in 2012, has a solidly green voting record.)
In general, public comments that focused on a small geographic area tended to have more success with redistricting authorities, Miller found. And all successful comments had two components.
"One is a very explicit, here's what I want you to do. And the second thing is, here's why I want you to do it," he said. "And the why is the important element in the sense that you have to explain to redistricting authorities or public officials, why it is what you want them to do matters to you."
Speaking from the heart versus reading from a pre-written script handed out by an advocacy group takes more time but the payoff is much higher, he said.
"The redistricting authorities that I spoke to all seemed pretty good at detecting orchestrated testimony in the sense that people are reading off the same scripts — the commissioners and legislators can identify that pretty quickly," Miller said. "If you have someone get up and say something that is a novel interpretation of the redistricting process, they're far more likely to pay attention to it."
Unsuccessful strategies
About a third of the public comments he recorded for his study were classified as "unfeasible" — suggestions that couldn't be manifested geographically, and oftentimes simply derided the process entirely.
Telling lawmakers that you want the state to create an independent redistricting commission, for example, was coded "unfeasible."
"While that might be helpful for understanding dissatisfaction with the status quo, it doesn't help the legislature draw the map at all," Miller said. "But if I was to say something like, 'I want Salt Lake County to be in one congressional district,' that's a feasibly mappable comment."
Offering geographically focused suggestions rooted in your knowledge of your community should be the goal at a public hearing, Stewart said.
"The only thing I would stay away from is speaking to other communities, speaking about communities that perhaps you don't belong to or not working in," she said. "I don't know if that's helpful to those communities. Communities should be in a position to speak for themselves."
The important thing is to speak up, however, in light of the Supreme Court's ruling in June that effectively put the onus on the people — not the courts — to ensure the drawing of fair voting maps.
"What happens during this time effects people for a decade," Stewart said. "That's a long time to be stuck with a decision."




















A golden tray sits on the Resolute Desk as President Donald Trump speaks during an announcement on American nuclear innovation in the Oval Office at the White House on July 24, 2026, in Washington, D.C. Trump is signing multiple executive orders targeting the nuclear energy sector and easing rules for new reactors and nuclear fuel supply chains.
Trump’s hubris rivals the fallen heroes of ancient Greek mythology
In January, the New York Times asked President Donald Trump if there were any limits on his global powers.
“Yeah,” the president responded, “there is one thing. My own morality. My own mind. It’s the only thing that can stop me.”
That was eight months ago, but fortunately Christopher Nolan’s blockbuster adaptation of “The Odyssey” has made ancient Greek literature newly relevant. Before that window closes, I’d like to talk about hubris.
Today, the term mostly means excessive pride or arrogance. That’s part of what the Greeks meant by it too, but the meaning was a bit richer and more specific. Hubris was an insolent or outrageous act that offended the gods, often because the transgressor was claiming abilities or authorities that solely belonged to supreme beings.
Nolan renamed and slightly modified the concept of xenia for the film, calling it “Zeus’ law.” In the director’s telling, mortals should follow the rules laid out by the gods, specifically the requirement to treat strangers with respect lest they be gods in disguise.
In a sense, hubris is the opposite, or at least the rejection, of xenia. The hubris of the suitors, and at times Odysseus himself, invites punishment by the gods and their mortal instruments.
Which brings me back to Donald Trump. His claim that there are no constraints on his personal power to dictate events on the global stage was one of the greatest expressions of hubris ever uttered by a political leader.
Trump’s claim was obviously false when he made it.
He vowed that he could end the Russia-Ukraine war in 24 hours. He’s proved powerless to make that happen. If he had divine powers to work his will, why would he have balked at implementing his tariffs so often that Wall Street adopted the “TACO trade” term for his deals? “TACO” stands for “Trump always chickens out.”
And why would Trump have made so many embarrassing concessions to China — from rescinding tariffs on Chinese goods to allowing them to buy crucial and incredibly valuable computer chips?
But Trump saw his success at capturing Venezuelan strongman Nicolas Maduro as proof of his ability to launch missiles to the same effect as Zeus’ lightning bolts. Trump believed he was the most powerful man who ever lived.
This is no exaggeration. In March, when the Iran invasion seemed successful, Trump gave a document penned by“Presidential Historian David King” to New York Times reporters Maggie Haberman and Jonathan Swan purporting to prove that Trump was “the most powerful person to have EVER walked this planet.” King was, in fact, a businessman and occasional caddy for legendary golfer Gary Player.
King compared Trump favorably to many of history’s most powerful, and often heinous, figures: Alexander the Great, Attila the Hun, William the Conqueror, Napoleon Bonaparte, Joseph Stalin, Genghis Khan, Mao Tse Tung, Adolf Hitler and Vladimir Lenin. Many of these men thought they were the most powerful person in the world, too. And many were defeated precisely because they believed it.
At least Napoleon and Hitler had a string of truly impressive victories before they learned the folly of hubris. The limits on Trump’s power have been exposed by far less august forces than the combined might of the allies in World War II or the fearsome Russian winter.
Iran is a comparatively middling power. But the regime’s ability to absorb punishment while imposing its will on the Strait of Hormuz has proved to be a greater constraint on Trump’s power than his morality or mind. We should note that, at least rhetorically, his morality has not proved much of a constraint. He has repeatedly promised to destroy Iranian “civilization” if the regime refuses to capitulate.
But they haven’t — and won’t anytime soon — because the regime’s tolerance for pain far outstrips Trump’s. The combined fear of skyrocketing oil prices, outrage of Gulf state potentates, diminishing weapon supplies and domestic unpopularity is doing the work that international law, congressional oversight and the collective opinion of foreign policy experts can’t or won’t do.
If I considered Trump more heroic than reason and facts could allow, I would say his Sisyphean predicament has the whiff of Greek tragedy to it. Trump is vexed by the fact that the Iranians won’t honor deals or ratify his countless premature claims of victory — giving new meaning to his vow that his presidency would make people tired of winning. It’s almost like they’re out-Trumping Trump.
Things might have gone better if he’d heeded that great Greek tragedian Sophocles: “For Zeus utterly abhors the boasts of a proud tongue.”
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Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.