Walk into any bar in middle America or a coffee shop in a coastal city during an election year, and you’ll see it. That glowing, pixelated image of the United States flickering on a TV screen, drenched in crimson and cobalt. It’s the red blue county map, the visual shorthand we use to understand who we are as a country.
But here’s the thing. It’s kinda full of it.
🔗 Read more: Why the Map of the Battle of Coral Sea Still Confuses People 80 Years Later
If you look at a standard county-level map of the 2024 or 2020 presidential elections, you see a sea of red. It looks like the Republican party has swallowed the continent whole, leaving only tiny islands of blue huddled along the coasts and near the Great Lakes. It feels decisive. It looks like a landslide of geography. Yet, the popular vote usually tells a story of a nation split almost exactly down the middle. This massive visual disconnect happens because land doesn't vote. People do.
The Tyranny of Geographic Scale
When we stare at a red blue county map, our brains are wired to equate area with importance. We see 3,000-plus counties, and because the vast majority of them—geographically speaking—lean Republican, the map looks lopsided. Take a place like San Bernardino County in California. It’s massive. It covers over 20,000 square miles. Now compare that to New York County (Manhattan), which is about 23 square miles. On a standard map, San Bernardino is a giant; Manhattan is a speck. But Manhattan has nearly the same population.
Geographic maps prioritize dirt over souls.
This is why cartographers like Kenneth Field or the team at the University of Michigan’s Center for the Study of Complex Systems spend so much time trying to "fix" the map. They use things called cartograms. These are those weird, distorted maps that look like the United States has been melted in a microwave. In a cartogram, the size of a county is determined by its population, not its acreage. Suddenly, Chicago, Los Angeles, and New York City swell up like balloons, while the vast stretches of the Great Plains shrink into thin slivers.
It’s less "pretty," sure. But it's way more honest.
🔗 Read more: Lorain Morning Journal Obituaries: Why They Still Matter Today
The "Purple" Reality We Ignore
We love binaries. We love "us versus them." The red blue county map feeds that hunger perfectly. A county is either colored red for a GOP win or blue for a Democratic win. It doesn't matter if the margin was 80% to 20% or 50.1% to 49.9%.
In the eyes of the map, a win is a win.
This creates the "Big Sort" myth. It makes it look like we live in completely segregated political silos. Honestly, if you actually look at the data from the 2020 election, even in "Deep Red" counties in rural Texas, there are hundreds of thousands of Democrats. In "True Blue" Seattle or San Francisco, there are blocks full of Trump supporters. By coloring a county a solid, vibrant primary color, we erase the millions of neighbors who don't fit the local narrative.
We aren't a red and blue nation. We’re a purple one with varying shades of lavender and maroon.
Why the Red Blue County Map Still Dominates Newsrooms
If the map is so flawed, why do we keep using it?
Television is a visual medium. Producers need something that pops. A nuanced, shaded map showing margins of victory in muted pastels doesn't grab a viewer's attention at 11:00 PM on a Tuesday. The high-contrast red blue county map creates drama. It turns an election into a sporting event. It’s the "scoreboard" effect.
There’s also the logistical reality of how we report data. Election results are funneled through the Associated Press and other wire services by county. It’s the smallest reliable unit of measurement we have that everyone can agree on. While we could map by precinct, there are over 170,000 precincts in the US. Trying to render that on a national scale would just look like digital noise. So, we stick with the county. It’s the "Goldilocks" zone of data—not too big, not too small.
The Rise of the 3D "Spike" Map
Recently, we've seen a shift toward 3D mapping to solve the "land vs. people" problem. You’ve probably seen these on social media or during late-night election coverage. Instead of just coloring the map, cartographers use vertical spikes. The taller the spike, the more votes were cast in that county.
When you look at a 3D version of the red blue county map, the "sea of red" stays flat. It looks like a prairie. But the blue areas? They shoot up like skyscrapers. This gives the viewer an immediate, intuitive sense of where the power lies. It shows that while Republicans dominate the breadth of the country, Democrats dominate the density.
The Psychological Toll of the Map
There is a real-world consequence to how we visualize this data. When people in rural areas look at a map that is 80% red, they feel like they represent the "true" heart of the country. When people in cities look at the same map, they feel surrounded or alienated.
It reinforces the "Two Americas" trope.
Political scientists like Jonathan Rodden, author of Why Cities Lose, have noted that our geography is becoming our destiny. But the map makes it look worse than it is. It suggests that if you cross a county line, you’re entering "enemy territory." In reality, most counties are divided. Even in the most lopsided areas, there’s a significant minority whose voice is literally erased the moment the map is colored in.
Beyond the Horse Race
If you want to actually understand an election, you have to look past the first layer of the red blue county map. Look for the "swing" counties—the ones that flip from cycle to cycle. These are the places like Erie County, Pennsylvania, or Door County, Wisconsin. They aren't solid colors; they are the barometers of the national mood.
Also, pay attention to the "suburban shift." Historically, suburbs were the GOP's firewall. Looking at the maps from 2012 versus 2024, you can see the rings around major cities slowly turning from pink to light blue. This isn't a sudden revolution. It’s a slow, grinding demographic and cultural change that a static red-or-blue map often fails to capture until it’s already happened.
Actionable Steps for Navigating Election Data
Don't let a graphic designer in a newsroom dictate how you perceive your country. The next time an election cycle rolls around, or you find yourself arguing over a map on Facebook, take these steps to get the full picture.
First, seek out margin-of-victory maps. These use shades of color rather than solid blocks. A light pink county is very different from a dark burgundy one. It shows you where the "purple" actually lives and helps you realize that most of the country isn't as polarized as the pundits claim.
Second, check out dot-density maps. Instead of coloring the whole county, these maps place one dot for every 1,000 or 5,000 votes. You’ll see red dots and blue dots mixed together in almost every single square inch of the United States. It is the single most effective way to visualize that "blue" people live in "red" states and vice versa.
💡 You might also like: Who Are the Senators of NJ? Why the Garden State’s New Lineup Is Such a Huge Deal
Third, look at shift maps. These don't show who won; they show how the vote changed compared to the last election. A county might still be blue, but if it shifted 10 points to the right, that’s the real story. That’s the "why" behind the results.
The red blue county map is a tool, but it's a blunt one. It’s like trying to perform surgery with a hatchet. It gets the general job done, but it leaves a mess and misses all the fine details. By understanding the limitations of the geography, you can stop seeing the country as a collection of warring factions and start seeing it as it actually is: a messy, overlapping, and deeply integrated collection of people who just happen to live in different places.
Stop looking at the red and blue. Start looking at the people between the lines.