While the senator’s feisty independence might confuse party activists, she is no enigma to locals.
While the senator’s feisty independence might confuse party activists, she is no enigma to locals.
Y ou know a Democrat has fallen out of favor when she is parodied on late-night comedy shows. With the White House’s legislative agenda in jeopardy and no GOP majorities to ridicule, Saturday Night Live opened its season by mocking Senators Joe Manchin (D., W.Va.) and Kyrsten Sinema (D., Ariz.).
The old white male multimillionaire West Virginian makes an easy target for lazy writers. They portrayed Manchin as a rich, racist hick. Easy-peasy.
But when it came to the quirky young bisexual female triathlete, SNL’s comics were at a loss. How could they dismiss Arizona’s Manic Pixie Dream Senator without challenging liberal pieties? With no obvious choices, they opted to make fun of Sinema’s looks.
John Oliver fared little better, yelping direct-to-camera f-bombs at Sinema, then pausing for mechanical applause. Comedy ain’t what it used to be.
The political media are stuck with the same dilemma. They’ve complained, shamed, mocked, and protested the Arizona senator — and yet, she remains totally unmoved.
Last week, a Capitol Hill reporter warned Sinema that Senate progressives are “frustrated they don’t know where you are.”
“I’m clearly right in front of the elevator,” she replied.
The Beltway’s frustration is hugely entertaining for Arizonan conservatives and many of my Democratic neighbors. She isn’t an enigma to us locals. But to understand Kyrsten Sinema, you must first understand Arizona.
For years, outsiders considered Arizona to be the reddest of red states. That changed with Sinema’s 2018 Senate victory followed by President Biden and Senator Mark Kelly’s (D., Ariz.) 2020 wins. Was Arizona turning blue? Not so much.
The state has swung right to left and back again. In the past 45 years, Democrats have held the governorship as often as the Republicans have. That’s because Arizona is neither conservative nor progressive. It’s contrarian.
My late father, who raised me as a good Arizona boy, provides a textbook example.
His politics were somewhere between Archie Bunker and Ron Swanson, but he would often vote to reelect Democratic governors. His reason? “I never hear about them in the news, which means they aren’t bothering me or screwing anything up.”
Every ballot includes a raft of propositions. Dad voted “No” on every one because “if we choose ‘Yes’ that means change and change is bad.” He also voted against retaining every single judge, just because.
This leave-me-the-hell-alone contrarianism has been present since the state’s founding. President Taft delayed Arizona’s acceptance into the union until the territorial legislature had removed a certain provision from the state constitution that he considered too progressive. After much bickering, the legislature removed it. But as soon as Arizona won statehood, they quickly voted the offending provision back in. Take that, Washington.
Decades later, Congress wanted to mandate nationwide daylight-saving time to save energy and eliminate confusion. Lawmakers in D.C. want to force another work hour of sunshine on Phoenix — in the summer? Angry Arizonans said hell no, uniformity be damned.
Fast-forward to 1990, when Arizona was the first state to hold a popular vote to create a Martin Luther King Jr. holiday. The week before the vote, the measure was leading in the polls 60 percent to 40 percent. But that weekend the NFL pompously announced that if Arizona voted “No,” they would punish the state by denying us chance to host the Super Bowl. The measure then went down 60 percent to 40 percent. (The holiday was ultimately approved two years later, 61 percent–39 percent, after local business leaders made the NFL promise to keep its big mouth shut.)
Arizona voters have a powerful defiant streak. They love nothing more than tweaking the noses of outsiders, even if it means cutting off their own in the process.
Journalists gave Senator McCain the “maverick” label for his history of run-ins with party bosses. He spent decades fighting for campaign-finance reform, usually opposing some Kentucky senator named Mitch McConnell. McCain’s last major act was killing a “skinny repeal” of Obamacare, this time directly in opposition to Senate majority leader Mitch McConnell.
Before McCain, Senator Barry Goldwater was our maverick. He infuriated the Rockefeller Republican leadership in the ’60s with his presidential campaign, and then the ascendant moral majority in the ’80s with his vocal support of gay rights.
While Sinema’s feisty independence might confuse party activists, she’s simply demonstrating this uniquely Arizonan mentality.
Last week, the state Democratic Party chastised the senator, warning that they will “closely watch” her upcoming votes. If she doesn’t support the $3.5 trillion budget-reconciliation package, the party added, they will “go officially on record” and “give Senator Sinema a vote of no confidence.”
She now has trackers following her to speeches as well as the class she teaches at Arizona State University. Over the weekend, progressives even followed her with a camera in and out of an ASU ladies’ room, a violation of state law. Activists boast of their ugly pressure campaign but, if anything, it will help Sinema in voters’ eyes.
In the most recent statewide poll, 46 percent of voters viewed Sinema favorably while 39 percent viewed her unfavorably. Her net favorability is three points higher than that of fellow Arizona Democratic senator Mark Kelly, who keeps his bald head down and meekly obeys party leadership.
Since her days in the statehouse, Sinema has cultivated moderate bona fides. During both stints the U.S. House of Representatives and the Senate, her mailers and ads have featured seas of waving flags and smiling veterans. She barely mentions either party, stressing her “independence” and willingness to work with “literally anyone” on big issues.
She’s also well liked on both sides, having built working relationships and personal friendships with political opponents for years. Sinema is a shrewd enough politician to know that voters back home want politicians who get things done, even if it means working across the aisle.
Progressive activists from Manhattan to Marin can sign petitions and curse her name. SNL and John Oliver can mock all they want. Kyrsten Sinema knows that alienating national media personalities and party leaders will only help her reelection campaign.