The loudest argument against ranked choice voting isn't that it doesn't work — it's that it's unfamiliar. Those are not the same thing.
Ranked Choice Voting (RCV) is back in the conversation in Massachusetts. After Question 2 narrowly failed in 2020 (54.8% to 45.2%), the measure became eligible for the ballot again in 2026, and the debate has reignited from Beacon Hill to town halls across the Commonwealth — including right here in Waltham.
Whenever RCV comes up, the same handful of myths resurface. Let's take them one at a time.
This is the most common objection, and it sounds reasonable on its face. But the data tells a different story. In New York City's 2021 mayoral primary — by far the largest U.S. test of RCV to date — 96% of voters found the ballot simple to complete, and nearly 87% successfully ranked two or more candidates. Voter confusion, measured by things like spoiled or duplicate ballots, tends to decline sharply after a city's first one or two RCV elections as familiarity grows.
In other words, any "confusion" is temporary — a one-time learning curve, not a permanent flaw in the system.
Skeptics sometimes argue RCV rarely changes outcomes, so why bother? But that misses the actual problem RCV solves. Plurality elections with three or more candidates can produce a winner most voters didn't want — because vote splitting can lead to an unpopular candidate sneaking through with a small slice of the electorate. RCV directly addresses that by ensuring the eventual winner has demonstrated majority support among voters who expressed a preference, not just a plurality.
That said, the research is still catching up to the enthusiasm — turnout effects, who decides to run, and impacts on different communities are all promising areas where more data will only strengthen the case for RCV as it accumulates.
This myth stems from a real mechanical feature of RCV that opponents often frame uncharitably: in later rounds, ballots that ranked only eliminated candidates and didn't rank any remaining candidate become "exhausted" and stop counting toward the final tally. Critics describe this as RCV discarding votes from people who didn't pick one of the final two.
Here's the more complete picture: those voters weren't disenfranchised — they had every opportunity to rank more candidates and chose not to (or ranked all the candidates they were willing to support). It's mathematically identical to what happens in a traditional two-round runoff election, just without making voters come back for a second trip to the polls, and without all the extra cost to Waltham that such a runoff entails.
This argument showed up prominently in Massachusetts' recent debate over primary reform: the worry that systems designed to reduce the spoiler effect also reduce the power of party organizations to control nominations. There's a legitimate philosophical debate buried in here about the role parties should play in a healthy democracy.
But it's an argument about values, not facts — and it cuts both ways. The same vote-splitting that RCV addresses is also what allows party machinery to occasionally hand a primary to a candidate most of the party's own voters didn't actually prefer. Reasonable people land on different sides of this one.
This is a persistent claim in the RCV debate, but it doesn't hold up well under scrutiny. RCV has been adopted through ballot measures backed by coalitions spanning the political spectrum, and used in cities and states won by both Democrats and Republicans. Alaska — hardly a liberal stronghold — adopted RCV in 2020, while deep-blue jurisdictions like San Francisco have used it since 2004.
The mechanics of RCV don't favor a party — they favor majority consensus among those who show up to vote. In a heavily Democratic city, RCV will tend to produce Democratic winners, just as plurality voting would. In a heavily Republican one, the opposite. What RCV actually changes is how candidates within a similar political lane compete with each other — reducing the odds that vote-splitting among ideologically-similar candidates will hand a win to someone the majority opposes.
The partisan-advantage narrative tends to come from whichever side just lost a close RCV election looking for something to blame, rather than from any consistent pattern in the data.
RCV is a tool, and like any tool, it solves some problems better than others. What the myths above have in common is that they tend to overstate certainty in one direction or another. The honest version of the RCV conversation acknowledges real tradeoffs: a learning curve for voters, legitimate questions about party dynamics, and a track record that's still being written city by city.
That's exactly why local conversations matter. Waltham doesn't need to resolve the national debate — we just need to decide what works for electing our own mayor and city council. Follow Ranked Choice Waltham as we keep digging into what RCV could mean for our city.