If you have spent any time reading Civic Capacity, you know that I spend a lot of time with numbers.
I tend look at budgets, property values, income, poverty, population, permits, public spending, voter turnout, and other measures that can tell us something about where a community has been—and where it may be going.
Some people may dismiss that work as an academic exercise. That is fair enough. Numbers can feel distant from everyday life.
But most of us want to live and work in communities that are trying to get better. We want stronger businesses, better public services, good schools, affordable housing, accountable leadership, and real opportunities for our families.
The difficult question is: how do we know whether a community is getting better?
Often, the answer is found in the numbers.
Government has the data
Local government is surrounded by data.
It tracks the number of building permits issued, the condition of streets, police and fire response times, utility usage, code-enforcement complaints, housing values, permit activity, tax collections, just to name a few. Other public sources tell us about poverty, income, educational attainment, labor-force participation, health, population change, and housing conditions.
Some data measure government activity. A city can tell you how many permits it issued or how many miles of streets it paved.
Other data measure community conditions. Is poverty rising or falling? Are incomes growing? Are more people working? Are young families staying? Are homes improving in value?
The problem is not that local government lacks data. The problem is that government doesn’t use the data to tell a story about the condition of the community.
That is not good enough.
Residents should be able to see the information that shapes public decisions. They should be able to ask whether policies are working and whether a community is moving forward or standing still.
Of course, numbers require humility. Correlation is not causation. A single statistic rarely explains a whole community. Poverty rates, incomes, population, crime rates, among others are shaped by many forces—history, geography, employers, schools, housing, transportation, family stability, public policy, and plain old luck.
Still, the fact that a number does not explain everything does not mean it explains nothing.
The work is to identify the numbers that can be influenced, understand what they are telling us, and decide what residents and public officials should do next.
One number residents control
After years of looking at local data, I have come to believe there is one number nearly everyone can influence directly:
Voter participation.
Consider Tipp City and Piqua.
Most readers probably have an instinctive impression of the two communities. They have driven through them, worked in them, some have lived there, attended events, visited businesses, or watched local decisions unfold over time. People will draw their own conclusions about which community appears more prosperous, more stable, or better positioned for the future.
The numbers show meaningful differences.
Using recent Census-based figures, Tipp City’s per-capita income was reported at $47,234, while Piqua’s was $31,741—a gap of nearly 49 percent. Tipp City’s poverty rate was 6.2 percent, compared with 17.6 percent in Piqua. In other words, Piqua’s poverty rate was nearly three times higher.
Those numbers do not mean that Tipp City residents are inherently better citizens than Piqua residents. They do not mean Piqua lacks good people, strong neighborhoods, committed employers, capable public servants, or residents working hard to improve their lives and their city.
And they certainly do not prove that voting alone creates prosperity.
But turnout tells us something important about whether a community is organized, visible, and politically difficult to overlook.
In the most recent municipal election, approximately 27 percent of Tipp City voters cast ballots, compared with roughly 15 percent in Piqua. In 2023, when statewide constitutional amendments brought more people to the polls, turnout increased substantially in both communities: about 57 percent in Tipp City and 40 percent in Piqua, which was the lowest turnout of any community in the county.
Those differences matter.
Participation is political leverage
Candidates have limited time, limited money, and limited attention.
When they decide where to knock on doors, where to send mailers, where to put up signs, and where to spend time listening, they use voter data. They know which neighborhoods vote regularly. They know which precincts turn out in low-profile municipal elections. They know which residents are likely to participate—and which ones are likely to sit out.
That is not cynical. It is how campaigns work.
Candidates go where voters are.
The same is true after Election Day. Elected officials notice who votes, who attends meetings, who contacts city hall, who understands the issues, and who can organize other residents. Communities that vote are more difficult to ignore. Communities that do not vote send a different signal, whether they intend to or not.
A low-turnout community does not deserve poor government. No one should be denied responsive public service because their neighborhood has historically voted at lower rates.
But residents should understand the hard political reality: when few people vote, candidates and public officials feel less pressure to earn their trust, explain their choices, or respond to their concerns.
Participation is not the only form of civic power. Showing up at meetings matters. Speaking during public comment matters. Serving on boards and commissions matters. Reading public documents matters. Supporting local journalism matters. Talking with neighbors matters.
But voting is the clearest, most visible, and most measurable signal residents can send.
Piqua’s coming test
This matters especially because Piqua faces major decisions ahead.
A citywide initiative related to data-center development is expected to appear on the ballot. That debate will involve questions about land use, utility capacity, water and energy demands, tax revenues, neighborhood impacts, public infrastructure, economic development, and the future identity of the community.
Residents may reasonably disagree about the answers. That is what elections are for.
But residents should not sit out the decision and then act surprised when others make it for them.
The issue is larger than one ballot measure. It is about whether people believe their voice has value in local government.
If you want candidates to take your neighborhood seriously, vote.
If you want city hall to explain its decisions, vote.
If you want public officials to understand that residents are paying attention, vote.
If you want better government, vote—and then stay involved after the election is over.
There is an old saying that we get the government we deserve. I am not sure that is entirely fair. Plenty of people work hard, raise families, care for neighbors, and contribute to their community without ever setting foot in a polling place.
But democracy does not work on good intentions alone.
When residents collectively choose not to participate—especially in local elections—they give candidates and public officials a free pass. They make it easier for decisions to be made by a smaller and smaller group of people. They weaken their own ability to demand accountability later.
So, as Piqua approaches another set of important decisions, perhaps the most important question is also the simplest:
Did you vote?
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