Would a National Popular Vote Let 'Big Cities' Pick the President? What the Data Shows

Few arguments in American politics are delivered with greater frequency or conviction than the conservative defense of the Electoral College ^{[3], [10]}. From congressional hearing rooms to primetime cable news, Republican lawmakers, right-leaning think tanks, and President Donald Trump have repeatedly argued that moving to a national popular vote would destroy heartland representation ^{[3], [6]}. In a widely cited 2018 interview, Trump articulated the core of this claim: "If you go to the popular vote, you'd go to three, four states, and you'd just go to the cities, and you wouldn't go anywhere else" ^[6].

The argument carries strong intuitive appeal. To millions of voters living in farm country, manufacturing towns, and low-density counties, the prospect of direct popular election conjures a vivid anxiety: that presidential contenders would spend their autumns shuttling between Manhattan skyscrapers, Hollywood studios, and Chicago loop rallies, ignoring the agricultural, industrial, and social needs of the rest of the republic ^{[3], [10]}.

To evaluate whether this concern is grounded in mathematical reality, The Dispatch examined official demographic data from the U.S. Census Bureau, certified election returns from the Federal Election Commission (FEC) and state secretaries of state, and campaign event tracking from FairVote ^{[1], [2], [4], [9]}. The empirical evidence demonstrates that while the "big city" narrative is mathematically impossible, conservative legal theorists raise substantial structural and operational defenses of the Electoral College that cannot be dismissed ^{[3], [7], [8]}.

What the Data Shows: The Demographic Impossibility of City Rule

The fundamental flaw of the "big cities would pick the president" argument is an arithmetic one: the United States is simply too vast, and its population too dispersed, for a handful of municipal jurisdictions to dominate a national electorate ^{[1], [6]}.

According to the U.S. Census Bureau's official population tallies, the ten most populous cities in the United States contain a combined total of approximately 25.4 million residents out of a national population exceeding 336 million ^[1]:

• New York City, NY: 8,258,035 (2.46% of U.S. population)
• Los Angeles, CA: 3,820,914 (1.14%)
• Chicago, IL: 2,664,452 (0.79%)
• Houston, TX: 2,314,157 (0.69%)
• Phoenix, AZ: 1,650,070 (0.49%)
• Philadelphia, PA: 1,550,542 (0.46%)
• San Antonio, TX: 1,495,295 (0.45%)
• San Diego, CA: 1,381,162 (0.41%)
• Dallas, TX: 1,302,868 (0.39%)
• Jacksonville, FL: 985,843 (0.29%)

Together, these ten cities account for just 7.57% of the American people ^[1]. Even if every man, woman, child, and non-citizen in all ten cities were eligible to vote, registered, turned out on Election Day, and cast a ballot unanimously for the same presidential candidate, they would represent barely 16% of the 158.4 million votes cast in the 2020 election—falling tens of millions of votes short of victory ^{[1], [4]}.

Even expanding the lens dramatically does not alter the arithmetic ^{[1], [6]}. The 50 largest cities in the United States account for 15.3% of the population, and the top 100 cities combined account for just 19.7% ^[1]. More than 80% of Americans live outside the nation’s 100 largest cities—residing instead in medium-sized cities, suburban subdivisions, exurbs, small towns, and rural counties ^{[1], [5]}.

Nor can campaigns rely solely on broader Metropolitan Statistical Areas (MSAs) ^[5]. While roughly 80% of the U.S. population lives within government-defined metropolitan areas, these regions are not dense concrete jungles; they span vast suburban, exurban, and semi-rural counties that are politically fragmented and fiercely competitive ^[5]. In a direct national popular vote, any campaign that attempted to limit its appeal to big-city urban cores would suffer a catastrophic nationwide defeat ^[6].

The Monolith Fallacy: America's Silenced Urban Conservatives

The second major flaw in the conservative talking point is the premise that cities vote as uniform, 100% Democratic voting blocs ^{[4], [6]}. In reality, millions of conservative Americans live in major metropolitan centers, and under the current Electoral College system, their votes are effectively discarded ^{[4], [9]}.

Official certified election results from the 2020 presidential contest illustrate this dynamic with remarkable clarity ^{[4], [9]}:

• In New York City, Donald Trump won 691,682 votes (22.7% of the total), securing outright majorities in Staten Island (62%) and winning substantial vote shares in South Brooklyn and Queens ^[4].
• In Los Angeles County, Trump received 1,145,530 votes (26.9% of the total) ^[9].
• In Cook County (Chicago), Trump won 553,747 votes (24.0%) ^[4].

Under the Electoral College's 48-state "winner-take-all" rule, every single one of those 1.15 million conservative votes in Los Angeles County was completely erased ^{[4], [9]}. Because California’s statewide vote favored Joe Biden, all 54 of the state’s electors went to the Democratic ticket ^[4]. The exact same erasure occurred for conservative voters in Chicago, Philadelphia, Detroit, and Seattle ^[4].

The inverse is equally true for Democratic voters in conservative states ^[4]. In 2020, 5,259,126 Texans voted for Joe Biden—more Democratic votes than were cast in New York State (4.56 million) or Illinois (3.47 million) ^[4]. Yet because Trump carried Texas by 5.6 percentage points, all 5.26 million of those Democratic ballots produced zero electoral votes ^[4].

In total, between 30% and 40% of voters in deep-red states are Democrats, and between 20% and 35% of voters in deep-blue states are Republicans ^{[4], [5]}. Rather than protecting political diversity, the Electoral College renders tens of millions of urban conservatives and rural liberals utterly invisible on Election Night ^[6].

Who Actually Gets Ignored? The 7-State Spectator Reality

Proponents of the Electoral College frequently claim that the system forces candidates to campaign across the entire nation and listen to rural, small-state voters ^{[3], [10]}. However, empirical tracking of modern presidential campaigns reveals that the exact opposite is true ^[2].

Because most states lean predictably toward one party, candidates do not spend time in places that are reliably red or reliably blue ^{[2], [6]}. Instead, campaign activity is concentrated with laser-like intensity on a tiny fraction of competitive "swing states" ^[2].

According to FairVote’s comprehensive Presidential Tracker, candidate travel during the general election campaign followed an extreme pattern of geographic concentration ^[2]:

• The 2024 Campaign: A staggering 93.9% of all general-election campaign events (246 out of 262) took place in just seven battleground states: Pennsylvania (59 events), Michigan (42), Georgia (37), Wisconsin (36), North Carolina (35), Arizona (22), and Nevada (15) ^[2].
• The Neglected Nation: These seven states represent less than 20% of the U.S. population ^{[1], [2]}. Voters in the remaining 43 states and the District of Columbia were reduced to passive spectators ^[2].
• Complete Blackouts: A full 32 states did not receive a single visit from any major-party presidential or vice-presidential nominee during the entire 2024 general election cycle ^[2].
• The 2020 Campaign: In 2020, 96.2% of candidate visits (204 out of 212) occurred in just 12 states, with Pennsylvania and Florida alone capturing 37.5% of all events ^[2]. Thirty-three states received zero visits ^[2].

Under the existing system, rural voters are not broadly empowered; only rural voters in designated swing states receive federal attention ^{[2], [6]}. A corn farmer in deep-red Nebraska or Idaho, a cattle rancher in Wyoming, a timber worker in Mississippi, or a dairy farmer in upstate New York receives precisely zero candidate visits and zero targeted general-election advertising ^[2]. Because their states are politically uncompetitive, both campaigns take their votes entirely for granted or concede them without contest ^{[2], [6]}.

The Full Picture: Where the Conservative Critique Has Deep Substance

While the mathematical claim of "big city dominance" collapses under Census data, conservative constitutional scholars at the Heritage Foundation, the Claremont Institute, and the Federalist Society put forward several substantive, structural arguments for preserving the Electoral College that merit serious weight ^{[3], [7], [10]}.

1. Constitutional Federalism and State Sovereignty

The foundational conservative argument is philosophical: the United States is not a unitary national democracy, but a constitutional federal republic composed of fifty distinct, sovereign states ^{[3], [7]}. As James Madison articulated in Federalist No. 39, the Constitution was designed as a "compound republic," balancing national authority with state-level federalism ^{[7], [10]}.

Under Article II, Section 1 of the Constitution, the president is chosen not by a consolidated national electorate, but by electors appointed by the respective states ^[7]. The Connecticut Compromise of 1787 deliberately established a bicameral legislature—equal representation in the Senate, proportional representation in the House—and reflected that exact balance in the Electoral College formula, where every state is guaranteed at least three electors regardless of size ^{[3], [7]}.

Conservative scholars argue that dismantling this system would erode the fundamental principle of dual sovereignty, reducing state governments to administrative subdivisions of Washington and ignoring the distinct political identities of separate commonwealths ^{[3], [10]}.

2. The Requirement for Broad Geographic Coalitions

A second major defense of the Electoral College is that it prevents regional factionalism ^{[3], [10]}. Under the existing mechanism, a presidential candidate cannot secure 270 electoral votes merely by running up massive, lopsided margins in a single sympathetic geographic region—such as winning 85% of the vote across California, Washington, Oregon, and the Northeast ^[3].

To win the presidency, a nominee must assemble a broad, geographically distributed coalition capable of winning pluralities across diverse state economies: energy and industrial workers in Pennsylvania and Wisconsin, technology hubs in Arizona, agricultural producers in Georgia and North Carolina, and service economies in Nevada ^{[2], [3]}. The Electoral College forces major parties to moderate their platforms to appeal across regional fault lines rather than maximizing deep ideological turnout in hyper-partisan bastions ^{[3], [10]}.

3. The Nightmare of a 50-State Recount

Perhaps the most compelling pragmatic argument against a national popular vote is the logistical and administrative peril of a razor-thin presidential election ^{[3], [8]}.

In the contested election of 2000 (Bush v. Gore), the recount was confined entirely to the state of Florida, where George W. Bush led Al Gore by 537 votes ^[7]. The ensuing five-week legal and operational battle tested the nation's institutions, but it was restricted to 67 counties operating under the laws of a single state supreme court ^{[7], [8]}. Similarly, in 2020, challenges and machine audits were confined to specific counties in Georgia, Arizona, and Wisconsin ^[4].

Under a direct national popular vote, there is no state firewall ^{[3], [8]}. If an election were decided by a razor-thin national margin of 0.1%—equivalent to approximately 160,000 votes out of 160 million—candidates would have the legal right and incentive to demand recounts across all 3,143 counties in all 50 states ^[8].

Because elections in the United States are deeply decentralized across more than 10,000 local jurisdictions—using disparate paper and digital voting machines, conflicting signature-verification rules, varied provisional ballot standards, and divergent cure deadlines—a simultaneous 50-state recount would generate unprecedented legal gridlock, protracted federal litigation, and potential constitutional collapse ^{[3], [8]}.

4. Media Market Economics & Rural Airwave Abandonment

Finally, free-market and conservative political strategists note that shifting to a national popular vote would dramatically alter campaign spending incentives ^[3]. While candidates might not visit only "three cities" in person, campaign managers would inevitably direct advertising budgets toward the nation’s top ten designated market areas (DMAs)—New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, Philadelphia, Dallas-Fort Worth, Atlanta, Houston, Washington, Boston, and San Francisco—where broadcast ad spending yields the highest raw impressions per dollar ^[3].

In contrast, buying broadcast television, radio, and digital advertising in rural markets like Casper, Wyoming, or Minot, North Dakota, is relatively inefficient on a cost-per-impression basis ^[3]. Under a popular vote system, rural and small-market media could be completely drained of presidential ad revenue, further disconnecting rural voters from national political discourse ^[3].

Conclusion

The conservative talking point that a national popular vote would surrender American governance to "three, four, or five big cities" is a demographic myth ^{[1], [6]}. The United States is not a nation dominated by a few massive metropolises; its ten largest cities account for barely 7.6% of the population, and its top 100 cities hold less than one-fifth of the nation ^[1]. More than 80% of Americans reside in the suburbs, exurbs, small towns, and rural counties that form the vast majority of the electorate ^{[1], [5]}.

Furthermore, the claim ignores the millions of conservative voters living in New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, and Houston whose voices are currently silenced by state winner-take-all statutes ^{[4], [9]}. Nor does the existing system protect rural America as a whole; in reality, it creates a narrow battleground oligarchy, channeling 94% of campaign attention to seven swing states while ignoring rural and urban voters alike in 43 other states ^[2].

Yet, refuting the "big city" bogeyman does not negate the profound constitutional and institutional arguments for preserving the Electoral College ^{[3], [7], [8]}. The American presidency was deliberately designed within a federalist architecture to reflect a union of states rather than a consolidated unitary populace ^[7]. The system forces candidates to build multi-state regional coalitions and provides an indispensable administrative firewall that confines disputed elections and recounts to individual states rather than paralyzing the entire nation across 3,143 local county jurisdictions ^{[3], [8]}.

An honest, evidence-based debate over presidential elections requires abandoning demographic scarecrows ^[6]. The real choice facing the American republic is not between rural empowerment and urban tyranny, but between two competing constitutional visions: the democratic principle of equal individual votes regardless of geography, and the federalist principle of a union of sovereign states designed to prevent regional hegemony ^{[3], [7], [10]}.