By Timothy Loftus, Editor & Publisher | Sergeant Bluff Advocate
(SBA) - Every election season, voters are lectured about civic duty. We are told our vote matters, that democracy only works if people show up and participate. Candidates beg for trust. They knock on doors, shake hands, attend debates, and plaster their party label everywhere they can—mailers, yard signs, television ads, social media. Republican. Democrat. Independent. Those labels are not an afterthought. They are the foundation of the entire campaign.
And then, sometimes only weeks or months after the election, that label suddenly “doesn’t matter anymore.”
For voters, that is not evolution. It feels like betrayal.
When people cast a ballot, they are not voting in a vacuum. They are making an informed decision based on shared values, policy priorities, and the very real consequences of who controls legislative power. Party affiliation tells voters what kind of laws are likely to pass, who will run committees, whether vetoes will stand, and which direction a state or the country will move. Candidates know this. That’s why they lean on party branding so aggressively when they want votes.
Which makes it infuriating when an elected official wins under one banner and then abandons it once the office is secured.
This isn’t some abstract concern. In April 2023, North Carolina State Rep. Tricia Cotham, elected just months earlier as a Democrat in a heavily Democratic district, announced she was switching to the Republican Party. Her single decision handed Republicans a veto proof supermajority in both chambers of the North Carolina General Assembly, instantly stripping Democratic Gov. Roy Cooper of his ability to block legislation voters had explicitly rejected at the ballot box. Was this her intent all along? To ride the coattails of the party that was sure to win and then cross over? Makes you wonder.
That one switch changed abortion policy, gun legislation, education funding, and more—without voters being asked a single follow up question.
Cotham insisted she was “still the same person” and said she refused to be “controlled” by her former party. But for the voters who supported her as a Democrat, that explanation rang hollow. They weren’t confused about who she claimed to be. They were angry that the person they voted for no longer existed politically. Even Democratic leaders in her own state said plainly that the candidate presented to voters was not the official now holding power and called on her to resign.
This sense of betrayal has played out before, with consequences just as severe.
In May 2001, U.S. Sen. Jim Jeffords of Vermont left the Republican Party to become an Independent. Because the U.S. Senate was evenly divided at the time, his move instantly flipped control of the entire chamber from Republicans to Democrats—without a single voter casting another ballot. Jeffords himself acknowledged the gravity of that moment, calling it a difficult decision precisely because of its national impact.
In April 2009, Pennsylvania Sen. Arlen Specter switched from Republican to Democrat midterm, pushing Democrats closer to a filibuster proof Senate majority during President Barack Obama’s first year in office. Specter was candid about the political reality, saying he was unwilling to have his Senate career judged by a Republican primary electorate that no longer supported him.
Each time, power shifted not because voters called for it, but because a politician decided—after winning—that their own interests mattered more. Public office isn’t supposed to exist for personal needs or political comfort. It belongs to the people who voted, organized, donated, and believed. Switching parties midterm feels like a politician thumbing their nose at those voters and saying, I’m in power now, and your choice no longer matters.
Defenders of party switching love to repeat the comforting slogan that voters elect individuals, not parties. That argument sounds noble, but it collapses the moment it meets reality. If party labels didn’t matter, candidates wouldn’t spend millions highlighting them. Voters wouldn’t cast straight ticket ballots by the millions. Campaigns wouldn’t collapse without party donors, volunteers, and infrastructure.
The truth is uncomfortable but obvious, the party label is part of the deal.
When that label is removed after the election, voters are left holding something they never agreed to buy.
People aren’t angry simply because they disagree with a vote. They’re angry because the rules seem to change after the fact. They played by the system, showed up, made a choice—and then watched that choice get quietly rewritten.
No one is suggesting that elected officials should be imprisoned by party labels for life. Beliefs evolve. Parties drift. Conscience absolutely matters. But so does accountability to the voters who put someone in office. If an official truly no longer believes in the platform they ran on, the honorable option is simple, resign, run again, and ask voters to either renew or reject that mandate. What usually stops that from happening is power—and the quiet understanding that another election might not end the same way.
Another reasonable option would be to allow officials to vote independently while remaining formally affiliated with the party voters elected them under until the term ends. Disagree loudly. Vote your conscience. But don’t alter the balance of power voters decided.
What should never be acceptable is flipping political control midterm and pretending voters were never owed an explanation.
Trust in government is already dangerously low. Voters already suspect that politicians say whatever is necessary to win and then do whatever they want once they’re safely in office. Midterm party switching pours gasoline on that belief. It reinforces the idea that campaign promises are disposable and voter expectations are irrelevant.
Political parties are not costumes candidates put on for Election Day and throw away afterward. They shape laws, leadership, and lives. Candidates understand this perfectly when they need votes. Pretending otherwise once power is secured insults the intelligence of the people who put them there.
If integrity still matters in public office, the standard should be simple, run as who you are, govern as who you claimed to be, or give voters the chance to decide again.
Anything else feels like a bait and switch—and for voters who keep showing up, that feels less like representation and more like having their voice stolen.
