Election season always brings the same ritual: pundits dissecting polls, politicos blaming the “messaging” and “narrative,” donors asking why their last-minute check didn’t miraculously close the gap we’ve warned about in countless memos for months. 

Democrats recently celebrated massive wins across the country while debating data and tactics. Which numbers are the magic combination to win, which metric justifies another investment, will a postcard be the straw that breaks the voters and what’s even common sense in politics today? It all makes for clickbait headlines and upset practitioners who didn’t get funding for their plans. 

I get it. At Community Change Action, we run metrics-driven campaigns — we test messaging, track turnout, and optimize outreach. We rely on these numbers to help inform how we’ll stretch every dollar we raise, which neighborhoods we’ll canvass, and who we’ll reach on the phone. And sometimes we’re overlooked for funding, too. I often find that when one strategy fails poorly, folks overcorrect. 

We need both data and the art of campaigning, not either/or.

Let’s pump the brakes before we throw the entire analytics department into the sea. Real conversations with voters, where we listen to their fears and hopes, lay the foundation for trust. Layering the data on top of that is a tool to amplify people’s humanity. 

I’m old enough to remember when campaigning was less online and more IRL. Here’s the thing nobody wants to say out loud: metrics saved us from pure “vibes” based politics. Campaign strategy was door-knocking and reaching people on their landlines; activists and candidates kvetching about a lack of yard signs somewhere.

Democrats became overly reliant on randomized control trials (RCTs), cost-per-vote calculations, and spreadsheet optimization. Future Forward spent half a billion dollars, tested thousands of ads, and stayed laser-focused on economic messaging that tested well. And yet… gestures at election results. 

In 2024, when people tried to “Brat Summer” and meme the most important election of our lives because the CPM was good, even as voters’ worries were concerning for anyone doing field work. It wasn’t that we had too much data. It’s that we treated data like a GPS that only shows one route, when what we needed was a map of the whole terrain.

When we treat humans like algorithmic outputs, we fall into “physics envy” — the mistaken belief that social behavior is as predictable as gravity. If a physicist drops a ball, and it falls at 9.8 m/s², it will fall at the same speed every single time. People? Not so much. 

When we rely only on what’s measurable, like cost-per-vote calculations and click-through rates, we miss what’s meaningful: the long-term trust built through year-round engagement with voters, the cultural shifts that happen when people see themselves as part of a movement, and the compound interest of relationships built over multiple election cycles. 

Here’s a novel solution: invest in organizing year-round, not just outreach in election years. Build relationships with community members and show up to listen, to learn, and to fight alongside. 

Too many campaigns treat voters like ATMs, dropping millions in the last couple of months before election day, extracting votes (or at least hoping to), and then disappearing until the next cycle. Our approach may cost more upfront, but we’re not rebuilding infrastructure from scratch every time — like a sports team that fires its entire roster after every season and wonders why there’s no chemistry. 

In an age where all news and entertainment that’s consumed is disaggregated into microcommunities, trust isn’t built in spreadsheets or polished 30-second ads. Trust comes from your friends, neighbors, or local community organizers who’ve been at city hall with you or advocating to bring healthcare to your town. The messenger is the message. 

Two people can deliver the same message with the same information, and have wildly different outcomes. The variable isn’t the data, it’s the relationship.

Here’s proof: when we at Community Change Action sent someone a mailer or pledge-to-vote postcard in 2024, they voted at a 93% rate — 9% higher than the model predicted–because of the relationship we’ve built over time. 

You also can’t A/B test your way into understanding cultural moments. By the time your RCT is complete, the moment has passed. That’s where the human element — the organizer or community member who feels the shift — becomes irreplaceable.

Data should inform decisions, not make them. 

When your spreadsheet says “don’t invest early,” but your field organizers say “we’re losing trust,” listen to the people talking to humans.

We have to measure what matters — not just what’s easy to measure. 

Cost-per-vote is easy to calculate. Trust is harder. But just because something’s hard to quantify doesn’t mean it’s not real. You can’t spreadsheet your way to belonging.

The real reason we over-index on metrics isn’t because they work better. It’s because they’re defensible. When you have to face donors or board members, “We tested this and it showed a 1.2% lift” is a much easier sell than “Franco in the field says this feels wrong.” But you know what’s really hard to defend? Losing while clutching your perfectly formatted spreadsheets.

If we’re honest, the influx of donors who want to spend two nickels, see maximized efficiency, and win three Congressional seats with it — while other sources of funding dry up — has left many organizations caught between a rock and a hard place. Recently, the executive director of an organization in a swing state told me they wished they hadn’t knocked on 80,000 doors, but instead had knocked on 30,000, and had had deeper, more meaningful conversations. 

The answer isn’t to stop measuring. It’s to start measuring better things. 

Track relationship depth, not just contact frequency. 

Measure trust indicators, not just turnout models. 

Value the organizer who says “I grew up in this neighborhood, and this won’t work,” as much as the analyst who says, “the model predicts 3.4% lift.”

Pair data with experienced judgment that understands what the numbers can’t measure: the messy, volatile, beautiful chaos of human beings making decisions based on trust, belonging, and whether they feel like anyone actually gives a damn about their lives between election days.

Build the relationships. Trust the messengers. Use the data. In that order.