Jurisprudence

Texas Is the Next Major Battleground Over Pandemic Voting Rights

A Starbucks employee wears a facial covering while working the drive-thru during the coronavirus (COVID-19) pandemic on April 07, 2020 in Dallas, Texas.  Starbucks is requiring employees to wear a facial covering and is making thermometers available to employees who would like to take their temperature before starting a shift.
Surely, this situation is one in which it’s safe to vote. Ronald Martinez/Getty Images

A new front opened up in Texas this week in the battle over how to conduct elections in the midst of a pandemic. On Tuesday, Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton issued an interpretation of the state’s absentee-balloting provisions that would preclude those who are afraid of contracting COVID-19 from voting absentee by mail. On top of that, Paxton made a veiled threat to prosecute anyone who encourages absentee balloting by people who are afraid of contracting the disease or anyone who obtains such a ballot “under false pretenses” for that purpose. On Friday, though, a state judge  issued a temporary injunction allowing voters to seek absentee ballots for that very reason. The language in Texas’ absentee balloting provision initially might read as being as restrictive as Paxton has interpreted it. However, there’s another possible reading, one that has the backing of the state district judge in this case, Tim Sulak, and one that would greatly expand absentee voting rights for Texans. The case will almost certainly face an appeal and have major consequences for November’s elections, but the more permissive reading is actually supported by a long history of jurisprudence in the state.

The election law in question says a person can only vote by mail if the would-be voter “has a sickness or physical condition that prevents the voter from appearing at the polling place on Election Day without a likelihood of needing personal assistance or of injuring the voter’s health.” On one hand, Paxton’s claim that being sick means actually being physically ill is plausible. The rule, he says, is about sick people who can’t get to the polls because they are sick, or who might get sicker if they had to vote in person. It is not about non-sick people afraid of getting sick if they go to the polls.

As the ACLU stated it in its motion in the case, though, it’s arguable that everyone now has a “physical condition” that increases the “likelihood” that going to the polls might “injure[] the voter’s health.” (New Hampshire has interpreted its analogous “physical disability” provision in precisely this way) Paxton’s construction of the statute, meanwhile, also might mean that someone who actually tests positive for COVID-19 but is asymptomatic may not qualify for an absentee ballot, which seems absurd. As Vox’s Ian Millhiser wrote: “Either one of these interpretations of the Texas law is plausible, and a judge could reach either conclusion using methods of statutory interpretation that are widely accepted as legitimate.”

This is where Texas’ judges should turn to the so-called “democracy canon,” a method of interpreting statutes that is tailor-made for cases like this one. In his 2009 Stanford Law Review article about the method, University of California, Irvine law professor Richard Hasen offered a case citation that perfectly captures the heart of the democracy canon: “[a]ll statutes tending to limit the citizen in his exercise of [the right of suffrage] should be liberally construed in his favor.” In other words, when there is a “tie” in how to interpret the statute, the tie goes to the voter.

The case Hasen cited—Owens v. State ex rel. Jennett—was, in fact, a Texas Supreme Court case. Indeed, Texas historically adopted a fairly strong version of what Hasen called the democracy canon. In one appeals court case from the 1950s on the very subject of absentee ballots, Sanchez v. Bravo, a Texas court established a “clear statement” rule regarding restrictions on the right to vote. If a state is going to prevent someone from voting, the court ruled, they have to say so in “clear and unmistakable terms.” Otherwise, courts must read the law in a way that promotes “the right of the citizen to cast his ballot and thus participate in the selection of those who control his government.”

Finally, there is a related issue about the good faith of the voters who’ve decided they want to vote absentee by mail. If the Texas Supreme Court eventually comes down on the side of a narrow reading of the law—turning its back on the democracy canon and an older body of the court’s own jurisprudence—this could be made up by voting officials and lower courts generously construing on a case-by-case basis voters’ reasons why they chose to vote absentee. It is here that Paxton’s veiled warning in the letter that those who obtain ballots by “false pretenses” can be prosecuted sounds a sour note. It is one thing to proclaim a general election rule regarding sickness and disability. It is a separate and more ominous thing for the state of Texas to threaten voters who understandably want to have it both ways: to stay safe in the middle of a pandemic and exercise their right to vote.