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David Giles of Corinth, a veteran, educator, and small business owner, is running to represent the people of Maine House District 27 in the Maine Legislature.
When John Adams warned that “our Constitution was made only for a moral and religious people,” he wasn’t talking about church pews or dogma. He was talking about something far more foundational — virtue, the moral glue that allows a free society to function without fear or force.
Adams believed a republic is sustained not by its laws but by its people — by citizens who choose honesty and decency even when no one is watching.
That’s why I believe Maine’s ballot Question 1 — the proposal to require photo identification for voting and reshape absentee ballot rules — is about more than elections.
It’s about trust.
It’s about whether we still believe in the integrity of our neighbors, or whether we’ve reached a point where the only way to feel secure is to treat everyone as suspect.
If passed, this measure would require photo ID at the polls, limit towns to one absentee drop box, end ongoing absentee status for seniors and disabled voters, and prohibit phone or family requests for ballots.
Supporters say it’s about election integrity. Opponents say it’s about access.
But the deeper question is moral, not procedural: Do we still trust each other enough to believe that most people will act in good faith? Or do we now depend on law to replace what trust once provided?
There’s a pattern to every democracy: When virtue is strong, laws are few. When virtue fades, laws multiply.
That’s not cynicism — it’s history. Every new rule begins as a statement of doubt — a confession that character can no longer be assumed.
We used to believe that honesty was the default. Now, the mere existence of a voter ID law feels like proof that we no longer do.
Picture this: An 82-year-old woman who has voted in every election since John F. Kennedy, suddenly needing a ride to the Bureau of Motor Vehicles because her license expired during the pandemic. A college student who sends in her absentee ballot and learns too late that she forgot to include a copy of her ID. A town clerk in rural Maine turning away someone she’s known for decades — not because she doubts them, but because the law now requires her to. And imagine a soldier — serving overseas, standing watch in the desert halfway around the world — who discovers that his absentee ballot was rejected because his ID copy wasn’t clear enough. He wears the uniform to protect the very democracy he can’t fully participate in. What message does that send about how we value his voice, or how we define trust?
Each of these stories might seem small, but together they speak volumes about who we are.
A democracy that mistrusts its own people may gain procedural strength, but it loses something far more precious: its moral confidence.
The Apostle Paul wrote that “the law was … added because of transgressions” ( Galatians 3:19).
Laws exist when virtue erodes, but they cannot restore it.
A photo ID may make elections feel safer, but it cannot make us more honest. Real integrity — the kind Adams spoke of — comes from conscience, not compliance.
And if we build a system on suspicion rather than shared faith, we may secure our ballots but lose the very trust that gives them meaning.
When Mainers go to the polls this November, the real decision won’t be between “yes” or “no.”
It will be between faith and fear — between believing that our neighbors still act with decency, or assuming that only laws can make them.
Because if we no longer trust each other, no amount of legislation will save our democracy.
Adams was right. A Constitution can protect liberty. But only a moral people — trusting, compassionate, and free — can keep it alive.