Pildes is a professor of constitutional law at New York University.
One of the most heavily contested voting-policy issues in the 2020 election, in both the courts and the political arena, was the deadline for returning absentee ballots.
The policy in a majority of states was that ballots had to be received by election night to be valid. Lawsuits seeking extensions were brought around the country for two reasons: a massive, pandemic-induced surge in mailed ballots, and concerns about the competence and integrity of the Postal Service, particularly after President Donald Trump appointed a major GOP donor as postmaster general.
The issue produced the Supreme Court's most controversial decision during the general election, prohibiting federal courts from extending ballot-receipt deadlines in state law.
Ample data is now available, providing perspective on what the actual effects of these deadlines turned out to be.
Perhaps surprisingly, the number of ballots that came in too late to be valid was extremely small — regardless of what deadline states used, or how much that deadline shifted. The numbers were nowhere close to what could have changed the outcome of any significant race.
Take Wisconsin and Minnesota, important states and sites of major court controversies on this topic. In both, voters might be predicted to be the most confused about the deadline for returning absentee ballots, because they kept changing.
Wisconsin law required absentee ballots to be returned by election night. A federal district court ordered that deadline extended six days. But the Supreme Court voted 5-3 to require the state's deadline to be respected.
Writing for the dissenters, Justice Elena Kagan invoked the district court's prediction that as many as 100,000 would lose their right to vote, through no fault of their own, if the normal deadline had to be followed. Commentators called this a "disastrous ruling" that "would likely disenfranchise tens of thousands" in this key state.
A post-election audit now provides perspective: Only 1,045 absentee ballots were rejected for failing to meet the deadline — 0.05 percent of the 1.9 million valid absentee votes cast, or 0.03 percent of the total vote. If we take it that President Biden won roughly 70 percent of the absentee vote nationwide, that means he would have added 418 to his margin of victory had these ballots been valid.
The fight in Minnesota was even more convoluted. If voters were going to be confused anywhere about these deadlines, with lots of ballots coming in too late as a result, it might have been expected there.
State law required ballots be returned by election night. But as a result of litigation, the secretary of state had agreed ballots would be valid if received up to seven days later. Just five days before the election, though, a federal court pulled the rug out from under Minnesota voters. It held the secretary of state had violated the Constitution and had no power to extend the deadline. The original deadline thus snapped back into effect at the very last minute.
But only 802 absentee ballots out of 1.9 million cast (0.04 percent) were rejected for coming in too late.
So, even though voting rights plaintiffs lost close to Election Day in both with the deadlines shifting back and forth, only a tiny number of ballots arrived too late.
But what about states that had a consistent policy throughout the run-up to the election that required ballots to be returned by election night? Among battlegrounds, Michigan provides an example. Only 3,328 ballots arrived after Election Day, too late to be counted, or 0.09 percent of the total.
Finally, in both Pennsylvania and North Carolina litigation did succeed in generating decisions that overrode state law and pushed ballot-receipt deadlines back.
These decisions provoked intense political firestorms in some quarters. The Pennsylvania Supreme Court's three-day extension became the primary justification that some Republican senators and representatives offered on Jan. 6 for objecting to counting the state's Electoral College votes.
But how many took advantage of these extensions? In North Carolina, according to information from the state Board of Elections, 2,484 ballots came in during the additional six days allowed — just 0.04 percent of the total valid votes.
The number was about 10,000 in Pennsylvania, out of 2.6 million absentee ballots — only 0.14 percent of the total there. These were not counted in the state's certified vote total. But had they been, Biden would likely have added around 5,000 votes to his winning margin, given that he won about three-quarters of the state's absentee vote.
These are not the numbers of ballots, of course, that would have come in late had the courts refused to extend the deadlines. They show the maximum number that arrived after Election Day, when voters had every right to return ballots this late. Even so, the totals are far lower than the 100,000 predicted in Wisconsin.
But had the statutory deadlines remained in place in Pennsylvania and North Carolina, there is no reason to think the number would have been much different from those in similar swing states like Michigan, where the statutory deadlines held and just 0.09 percent of ballots arrived too late.
These small numbers occurred despite a massive surge in absentee voting in nearly all states. What explains that?
Voters were highly engaged, as the turnout showed. They were particularly attuned to the risk of delays in the mail from seeing this problem occur in the primaries. Throughout the weeks before the election, voters were consistently returning absentee ballots at higher rates than in previous elections.
The communications efforts of the Biden campaign and the state Democratic parties, whose voters cast most of the absentee votes, got the message across about deadlines. Election officials did a good job of communicating these deadlines. In some states, drop boxes that permitted absentee ballots to be returned without using the mail might have helped minimize the number of late-arriving ballots, though we don't have any empirical analysis.
In a highly mobilized electorate, it turns out that specific ballot-return deadlines, and whether they shifted even late in the day, did not lead to large numbers of ballots coming in too late.
That's a tribute to voters, election officials, grassroots groups — and to the campaigns.
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Click here to read the original article.
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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.