After a bike accident, the author saw how new Utah laws make voting harder for disabled and homebound citizens. Comparing banking’s trust-based convenience with lawmakers’ growing suspicion, he warns that restricting ballot access erodes public faith and weakens democracy. Voting should be as easy as banking—and far more sacred.
I’ve always voted—every election, every year since becoming a citizen. I believe showing up, even for the smallest local races, is part of being a responsible citizen. But this year, after becoming temporarily disabled in a bike accident, I experienced how fragile that right can feel.
If I lived alone, I couldn’t have easily dropped off my ballot. I would have had to rely on a neighbor or relative—something Utah’s legislature has now made more complicated. The irony hit me hard: it would be easier for me to borrow $500 from a bank than to cast a ballot.
All I’d need for that loan is a linked checking account and proof of direct deposit. In minutes, a financial institution would trust me enough to approve it. No long lines. No suspicion. No debate about whether I deserve the opportunity.
My vote, on the other hand, isn’t worth $500 to my legislature—and apparently, it’s not worth trusting me either.
Banks vs. Ballots
The comparison might sound strange, but it says a lot about how our systems are built. Banks design for convenience. They want people to participate. They verify identity digitally, allow remote signatures, and make it simple to move money securely from anywhere.
Voting, however, is moving in the opposite direction. Utah lawmakers recently passed bills, including HB 300, that make it harder for someone else to drop off your ballot or help you vote if you’re disabled or homebound. These changes are being justified in the name of “election integrity,” but the problem they claim to fix doesn’t exist to any great extent.
Even Representative Karianne Lisonbee, one of the voices pushing tighter restrictions, continues to suggest that voter fraud is a serious issue—without evidence. Utah’s elections are among the most secure and transparent in the nation. County clerks and bipartisan audits confirm it year after year. Actual instances of fraud are vanishingly rare. Yet new rules keep appearing that make it more difficult for ordinary people to vote, especially those who already face physical or logistical barriers.
The False Sense of Security
I understand wanting secure elections. Everyone does. But these laws aren’t about security—they’re about suspicion.
A bank, ironically, manages far greater financial risk than an election office does, yet it has figured out how to make participation easy and fraud rare. If banks can safely move billions of dollars online, it’s hard to believe that our state can’t safely handle mail-in ballots.
And here’s the difference that matters most: banks don’t have to serve everyone. Voting does. A bank can deny a loan based on credit, employment, or risk. But voting isn’t a privilege to be earned—it’s a right guaranteed to every citizen. When lawmakers make it harder for people to exercise that right, they aren’t improving democracy. They’re narrowing it.
The Cost: Public Trust
Most of the legislators behind these changes will probably still be reelected. That’s part of why this is so insidious—it doesn’t have to cost them politically. But what it does cost is trust.
Every time the rules tighten without justification, more people start to feel like government isn’t for them. They see barriers where there used to be bridges. And once people lose faith that their leaders actually want them to participate, it’s hard to win that faith back.
Voting should feel like the most natural thing in a democracy—not a test of your mobility, resources, or luck.
A Personal Plea
I don’t need sympathy for my disability, I am somewhat recovered. What I need—and what every Utahn deserves—is a system that assumes we want to vote, not one that treats our participation as a problem to be managed.
I’m not asking for online voting or shortcuts. Utah’s existing mail-in system already strikes the right balance of security and access. What I’m asking is that we don’t make it harder for people to participate without solid, fact-based reasons. We shouldn’t change voting laws just to chase higher “integrity” scores from outside groups with their own political motives.
If a bank can verify my identity and lend me $500 with a few taps on an app, surely my state can trust me to mail in a ballot or have a neighbor drop it off. A healthy democracy doesn’t fear convenience. It fears exclusion.
Utah has always prided itself on civic engagement. Let’s not lose that spirit to paranoia and political theater. Voting shouldn’t necessarily be as easy as banking, but let’s find ways to engage more people, instead of making it hard.
One interesting question that a colleague asked was if there was more demand for these easy loans than more accessible voting.
Author’s note: I helped design and implement a small-dollar loan feature at a bank that used verified direct deposits from another institution to qualify customers instantly. Many other banks now offer similar “earned-wage” or direct-deposit-based loans—a reminder that private institutions have found ways to extend trust where our voting system still struggles to. The author has also taught Information Security at USU.
