The weird thing here is that Sinema, who could stand to lose a Democratic primary if she runs for re-election in 2024, doesn’t seem to care. Usually, legislators’ positions on issues are informed by some combination of their own beliefs, the interests of their donors, and those of their constituents. So what are we to make of the fact that, at a crucial turning point for U.S. democracy and a record low point in her standing among the people who put her in office, Sinema opted to derail the Democrats’ voting rights legislation? Does she have some deeply held personal attachment to the filibuster, an institution whose history she can’t even get right?
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And, anyway, Sinema’s votes can’t be explained by the ideological makeup of Arizona’s general electorate: She’s siding with the GOP way more often than she needs to—and according to Civiqs’ tracking, she’s even 20 points under water with independents, who flipped on her in early 2021 around the time she signaled her opposition to raising the minimum wage in the COVID package. Among Republicans, she has a net favorable rating, which jumped after she missed the Jan. 6 commission vote. But she wouldn’t last a second in a GOP primary. The Arizona Republican Party, which is now fully consumed by pro-Trump conspiracy theories and far-right extremism, would never cast its lot with a centrist former Dem.
One often-repeated theory is that Sinema simply doesn’t intend to run for office again and may see her future in lobbying. But U.S. senators don’t usually dash for that door after just a single term in office. Recently, journalist Amy Siskind claimed that Sinema hopes to run for president in 2024 as a straight-down-the-middle candidate, and she’s establishing a legislative history to back herself up. It seems almost too bizarre to be true—but then again, so does the rest of her behavior.