Is it time to discard non-partisan elections in Chicago?
America has spent much of the past century trying to take political parties out of politics. Nowhere has that experiment advanced further than in municipal elections, where more than three-quarters of cities now use nonpartisan ballots. Candidate names appear without Democratic or Republican labels, and in many places every contender runs in one preliminary election, followed by a runoff between the top two if no one wins a majority.
The arrangement is often described as “reform.” It promises to weaken party bosses, enlarge voter choice, and reward candidates capable of appealing beyond a narrow partisan base. At the state level, Louisiana pioneered the modern “jungle primary” in 1975. Washington later adopted a top-two system, followed by California. Alaska went further with a top-four primary and ranked-choice general election. It's not clear how Alaska’s system passes constitutional muster. Although these systems differ, they share a central premise: Parties should not control who reaches the decisive ballot.
The national experience also exposes a contradiction. "Top-two" advocates claim that a common ballot produces moderation because candidates must seek votes beyond their party. Yet, the same system can eliminate an entire party when its candidates divide their support, or send two members of the same party to the general election. California has repeatedly produced same-party November contests. Voters technically retain a choice, but not necessarily a choice between competing governing philosophies. Meanwhile, parties continue raising money, endorsing candidates, and organizing campaigns. The primary has not abolished them; it has altered when and how party influence is exercised, often making that influence less visible to voters.
Municipal nonpartisan elections are older and more widespread. They emerged from the Progressive Era’s campaign against urban political machines. Reformers argued that potholes, policing, sanitation, and public finance were practical concerns rather than Democratic or Republican questions. Removing party labels, they believed, would encourage voters to judge competence instead of organization.
That distinction has always been more attractive in theory than in practice. City government is intensely ideological. Taxes, pensions, public-sector unions, school choice, policing, zoning, and contracting all reflect competing philosophies of government. Erasing party names from the ballot does not erase those differences. It merely requires voters to discover them without the ballot’s most familiar shorthand.
Chicago offers a particularly revealing case. For most of its history, the city elected mayors through Democratic and Republican primaries, followed by a general election. Because Chicago became overwhelmingly Democratic (there hasn’t been a Republican elected mayor since William Hale “Big Bill” Thompson whose final term ended in 1931), the Democratic primary often served as the real contest. At least the system told voters which organization was sponsoring each candidate and gave the minority party a guaranteed opportunity to make its case.
The political impetus for changing that system came after Harold Washington’s 1983 election. In the Democratic primary, Harold Washington won 36.3 percent of the vote with incumbent Mayor Jane Byrne winning 33.6 percent and then-Cook County State’s Attorney finishing third with 30.1 percent. Washington then narrowly defeated Republican Bernie Epton, 52 percent to 48 percent, in the general election. It was not a genuine comeback for the GOP but rather white voters' fear of electing a black mayor. As a result, some political figures began advocating an all-candidate election with a runoff, a structure that would prevent a candidate from capturing the office through a plurality with a rival bloc divided among several contenders.
Springfield enacted the change 12 years later in 1995, and Chicago held its first nonpartisan mayoral election in 1999. The timing carried another irony. The Chicago Republican Party had become almost irrelevant. Its 1995 nominee, Ray Wardingley, received only 2.8 percent of the vote. Republicans in the General Assembly could plausibly hope that abolishing party labels would allow a conservative or center-right candidate to escape the burden of the GOP brand and reach a runoff.
That has not happened. Instead, Chicago’s officially nonpartisan elections have become Democratic primaries conducted without the Democratic label.
Richard M. Daley won the first three elections under the new system with 71.9 percent in 1999, 78.5 percent in 2003, and 71.1 percent in 2007. Rahm Emanuel avoided a runoff with 55.3 percent in 2011. Since then, every mayoral election has required a second round. Emanuel received 45.6 percent in the 2015 first round and defeated Jesús “Chuy” García with 56.2 percent in the runoff. Lori Lightfoot led a 14-candidate field with only 17.5 percent in 2019, then overwhelmed Toni Preckwinkle with 73.7 percent. In 2023 Paul Vallas finished first with 32.9 percent, but Brandon Johnson, who had received 21.6 percent, defeated him in the runoff with about 52 percent.
The record demonstrates both the strength and weakness of the system. It prevents a mayor from taking office with a small plurality. Lightfoot’s 17.5 percent first-place showing in 2019 plainly was not a mandate, and the runoff required voters to make a final choice. That is the best argument for retaining the present arrangement.
But majority rule can be preserved without pretending that parties do not exist. Chicago could restore partisan primaries and, if desired, require a runoff within a party when no candidate receives a majority. The Democratic and Republican nominees would then meet in November, along with qualifying independents. Voters would know which coalitions accepted responsibility for which candidates.
Party labels are not an insult to voters. They are information. The system also relieves political parties of accountability. Nearly every serious Chicago mayoral candidate calls himself or herself a Democrat, but the party need not choose among them before the runoff or defend a single governing program. Candidates collect Democratic endorsements selectively while distancing themselves from the consequences of one-party rule. Republicans, meanwhile, have no guaranteed position in the final election and little incentive to build a city organization. Under the old system, Republicans could brand themselves as being against the stranglehold of public sector unions, the disastrous consequences of public schools' abject failure, and the tepid defense of the Chicago Police Department.
On a practical basis, it might tempt genuine reformers like Paul Vallas, 15th Ward Alderman Raymond Lopez, or wealthy businessman Willie Wilson, Chicago’s version of Donald Trump, to enter the Republican primary. Of course if the nominee was a Republicrat like Darren Bailey then it would all be for naught.
Political competition cannot grow when the law denies the minority party even a regular place on the final ballot. A Republican nominee receiving 20 percent or 25 percent would establish a visible base, force debates, and give dissatisfied voters somewhere to go. Over time, the party might recruit credible candidates for alderman, state legislator, and mayor. If the national GOP had any brains (that’s a big if) it would help fund these races. At minimum, Chicagoans would be reminded that city policy is a matter of political choice, not merely personality.
The city’s 1997 mayoral ballot should say openly what its campaigns already reveal. Let Democrats nominate a Democrat. Let Republicans nominate a Republican. Let independents qualify under reasonable rules. Then let the entire city choose among clearly identified alternatives in a general election.
Chicago’s present system guarantees a majority winner. It does not guarantee political clarity, institutional responsibility, or meaningful opposition. After seven elections and nearly three decades, that is enough evidence to reconsider a reform that has removed party names while leaving one-party government untouched.
