When is Texas going to turn blue?
Election wonks obsess over this question. For years, panicky Republicans and optimistic Democrats have looked at the state’s growing Hispanic population, the increasing size and strength of the state’s cities, and the declining power of rural vote in an attempt to gauge exactly when this reliably Republican state will become a marginally Republican or even light blue state. The estimates vary, but the conclusion is typically the same—that changing demographics will be responsible for Texas’s eventual Democratic majority.
That’s not the right way to think about Lone Star state politics.
The political trends in Texas haven’t run parallel to straight-line demographic trends, and individual political choices (e.g., how both President Trump and Hillary Clinton put together their coalitions) is an underappreciated factor in understanding the current state of Texas politics. In other words, the political trajectory of Texas isn’t written in stone, and choices by either party could bend the state toward them.
Gradual demographic change but sharp political shifts
One weird aspect of Texas politics is that the demographic changes haven’t exactly aligned with the political changes. To see this, first take a look at this graphic from the States of Change Project (an analysis of demographic and political change done by the American Enterprise Institute, the Center for American Progress, and the Brookings Institution).
The demographic trend is clear. Hispanics have steadily become a larger part of the pool of potential voters in Texas (the trend for eligible voters is shown) while white voters have become a smaller part of that pool. This is a positive trend for Texas Democrats—as long as Latino turnout stays the same or increases, more Latinos (who, as a group, strongly prefer Democrats) will enter the state’s electorate and push it leftward.
Similarly, Democrats are looking at a favorable urbanization trend.
Over the last few decades, Republicans have gained strength in rural areas and smaller towns while Democrats have increasingly dominated big cities (note that urban areas include suburbs according to this definition—more info can be found here). The Texas electorate is more urban than that of the nation as a whole, and the political power of these cities is growing. While some of the growth in these major cities likely is the growth of the Latino population (many Texas Latinos live in major cities), it’s not hard to see how the growth of prosperous, urban areas would help a party that tends to do well in large metro areas.
In other words, some of the main demographic trends in Texas are straight lines that favor Democrats. But the political trends don’t match up.
This graphic shows the Republican share of the two-party vote in Texas adjusted for the party’s share of the national two-party popular vote in every election since 1976 (i.e., when Barack Obama won the 2008 election, the line is adjusted upward to reflect how Texas voted compared to the nation as a whole; it’s adjusted downward in years like 2004 or 1984 when the GOP won the popular vote).
The basic trend is clear. Jimmy Carter won Texas in 1976 by a slightly larger margin than he won the national popular vote. But after that, the state trended right until 2000, when native son George W. Bush was at the top of the GOP ticket. Bush represented a peak for Texas Republicans, but the line didn’t drop precipitously when he left office. In 2004, Bush won Texas by 22.9 points while winning nationally by 2.4 points (a difference of 20.5 points) and McCain won Texas by 11.8 points while losing the national popular vote by 7.2 points (a difference of 19 points). Similarly, Romney’s margin in Texas was about 20 points larger than his margin in the popular vote (which was negative; Obama won in 2012).
But when Trump took the reins, Texas leaped leftward. He still won the state by nine points while losing the popular vote, but that’s a lot less padding than most Republicans get in the Lone Star state.
So why did Texas jump left in 2016?
Without individual-level voter file data, it’s hard to tell with certainty who shifted their vote between 2012 and 2016, who turned out, who failed to turn out, and why the state moved in the way it did. That being said, other data sources give us some clues.
Turnout may be part of the story, but it’s likely not the whole story. Raw numbers from the Current Population Survey suggest that in 2016, there wasn’t a massive increase in Hispanic turnout in Texas. Raw CPS numbers aren’t perfect, but a report by Robert Griffin, Ruy Teixeira, and John Halpin estimates that Latino turnout was only 4 percent higher in 2016 than 2012. Put differently, Hispanic/Latino voters were about 19 percent of the Texas electorate in 2012 and 21 percent in 2016
—a notable change, but probably not enough by itself to explain Texas’s leftward jump.
A shift in the Hispanic vote might be part of the story, but there’s still some disagreement among experts on this issue. Exit polls, pre-election polling, county-level results and data from the Cooperative Congressional Election Studies all suggest that Trump performed roughly as well (or maybe better) than Mitt Romney with Hispanic/Latino voters nationally. And the Griffin-Teixeira-Halpin found little difference between Obama’s and Clinton’s margin with Hispanics in Texas specifically. In other words, there’s some evidence that Texas Hispanics (who, according to estimates by the New York Times’ Upshot, already voted more Republican than Hispanics in states like California in 2012) might not have shifted far to the left in 2016.
That being said, Francisco Pedraza and Bryan Wilcox-Archuleta have used precinct-level results and ecological inference to argue that Trump fared significantly worse than Romney in Texas.
Different researchers prefer different methods on the Hispanic vote, but it’s harder to argue about the shift among college-educated whites in Texas.
This is a pretty simple graphic—it shows how well the rate of college education among whites predicted the shift in two-party vote share between 2012 and 2016 on the county-level with the county sized based on the total two-party turnout in 2016. The graphic suggests that Trump beat Romney in smaller counties where whites were generally less educated but lost voters in major metro areas where whites are well-educated.
Obviously there are limitations to this data (e.g. ecological issues), but the basic point (which is corroborated by other analyses) is that Clinton was able to win over a number of more typically Republican college-educated white voters. Trump’s overall strategy worked out for him
—he won the Electoral College and the presidency in part by trading college-educated white voters for blue collar whites in swing states like Pennsylvania, Iowa and Wisconsin. But that trade hurt him in states like Texas.
Less destiny, more choice
When you put all of this data together, the changes in Texas look a little bit less like the result of inevitable changes and more like the result of specific choices. The growing Hispanic population is a potential long-term problem for Republicans in the Lone Star State, but the GOP created its own problems with upscale whites (and Texas Latinos, depending on your read of the data) by nominating Trump.
And that’s the key point here—that the chances in Texas turning blue aren’t just the product of demographic change. They’re the product of conscious choices made by both parties—and both parties can alter the trajectory of the state through their choices.
Republicans could reverse some Democratic gains by winning back college-educated white voters. Trump is historically unpopular, but if he focuses on the economy, picks fewer cultural fights than he did in 2017, and generally runs a more competent White House, he might be able to regain some traditional Republicans. And statewide Republicans might try to find a way to build a separate brand from Trump and win Latino voters who dislike the president. Obviously there’s no guarantee either of these scenarios will happen. Trump may not be willing or able to back off the parts of his policy and personality that repel upscale whites, and statewide Republicans might be unable or unwilling to separate themselves from a national party that still comfortably wins statewide contests. But the point is that choices—not just demographic changes—matter here.
It’s also possible for Democrats to increase their margin with Hispanics and college-educated whites. Maybe in some upcoming election they’ll find a strategy that mobilizes more Latino voters and create the turnout jump that many on the left have dreamed of for years. Or maybe college-educated white Republicans who voted for Clinton will, over time, enter the Democratic mainstream and help them build a base.
The point here isn’t to predict if or when Texas will turn blue. The point is to emphasize that new issues, unconventional candidates, changes within the parties, new social conditions and more can scramble straight-line demographic math. It’s simply difficult to forecast political change more than two to four years ahead of time—and that goes for Texas as much as any other state.
So Republicans who want to keep the state bright red instead of light red might want to focus on bringing college-educated whites back in the fold or finding ways to make inroads with Hispanics despite Trump. And Texas Democrats might want to focus on mobilizing Hispanics, solidifying their gains with upscale whites, maintaining a strong position with black voters and finding other persuadable voters. While it’s impossible to know what a successful political party will look like in Texas 20 or 30 years, it is possible for both parties to figure out what winning looks like now and to move toward that.
