Last week, Quinnipiac University released a poll showing how Pennsylvania voters viewed their state leaders. One of the most remarkable findings was the standing of Democratic Senator John Fetterman. The topline takeaway for him was solid: 46 percent approved of his job performance versus 40 percent who disapproved. But the data beneath the surface was somewhat bewildering. Fetterman fared best among Republicans, with fully 73 percent supporting him. Independents liked him too, with 48 percent approving against 37 percent disapproving. But among his own party, a paltry 22 percent approved of him.
Fetterman’s popularity with everyone but his base no doubt has to do with his “heterodox” views and penchant for bucking orthodoxies on his side, especially on hot-button topics. Consider some of the things he has done since joining the Senate in 2023:
Proudly supported Israel in its fight against Hamas and rejected the “progressive” view on that issue;
Warned (presciently) that Democrats were not taking the issue of border security seriously enough in the run-up to the 2024 election;
Said he is “not rooting against” Trump;
Admonished his party for forgetting “why we lost” in 2024;
Opposed shutting down the government over ICE funding and rebuked calls to abolish the agency; and
Chastised Democrats who yelled during Trump’s latest State of the Union address.
In this tribal era of American politics, Fetterman’s actions have signaled to many in his party that he is not a “team player.” They view Trump and his policies as existential threats to the nation and Fetterman as, at best, an enabler. Of course, voters of either party have a right to expect their side’s elected officials to promote their values and serve as the loyal opposition to a president of the other party. This is nothing new in politics. But the criticism of Fetterman misses some key things.
First, he still largely sticks with the Democrats. According to data from the website VoteHub, Fetterman only votes with President Trump 28 percent of the time. And although this means he sides with Trump more frequently than any other Senate Democrat, it’s not by much: the next-closest senator, Jeanne Shaheen of New Hampshire, votes with Trump 25.6% of the time.
Moreover, Fetterman has supported Democrats on several high-profile matters. He has taken a decidedly populist tone on economic issues, supporting many liberal positions such as closing income tax loopholes for billionaires, repealing executive orders targeting labor unions, and tackling “corporate greed.” He voted “HELL NO” on Trump’s biggest policy priority of his second term, called on the president to fire DHS Secretary Kristi Noem over the Minneapolis fallout, and criticized him for paving the way to increased restrictions on abortion. Fetterman has even sided with the left on contentious social issues. In fact, he has said he is a Democrat because of abortion and LGBT issues.
Second, it’s important to remember that Fetterman represents Pennsylvania, perhaps the ultimate swing state. And while he typically votes the way one might expect of a Democrat, he also clearly believes he should work to represent all Pennsylvanians, not just those in his party. This is likely a key reason why large shares of independents and Republicans support him, even as they almost certainly disagree with some of his more liberal-leaning views.
In past eras, when both parties were more ideologically diverse, it wasn’t uncommon to see members from swing states break with their party. One example of this from the not-too-distant past was Republican Senator John McCain. For most of his tenure in the Senate, McCain was known as a “maverick,” a reputation he earned not only by breaking with his party on matters where he disagreed on principle, like immigration, but by often doing so on the national stage.
This kind of politics, however, is now increasingly out of vogue. Demonstrations of independence—once a prerequisite of building winning coalitions in competitive races—are rarely rewarded by politicians’ own voters nowadays. Instead, both parties have begun to pursue of a politics of purity that focuses more on hunting heretics than seeking converts. Toward the end of McCain’s time in office, for example, as the Tea Party brought its uncompromising brand of politics to the national political stage, he received serious challenges from the right wing of the GOP, even though he was the party’s erstwhile presidential nominee and a major party figure.
This is the dilemma facing Fetterman and other politicians of his ilk. Polarization and geographic sorting have reduced the incentive to stray from one’s political tribe, and when a politician does so, there are often consequences from their own voters. Thus, while candidates like Fetterman might represent the median voter, they will have a very hard time winning if they can’t mollify their base, too.
It is certainly possible Fetterman will survive a Democratic primary in 2028, assuming he runs for another term. But at 22 percent approval among his own party, he’ll have a steep hill to climb, especially against what is likely to be a strong slate of challengers (and in a state with closed primaries, which makes it harder for non-Democrats to participate). A loss would signal that Fetterman’s iconoclastic style may simply be a product of a bygone era—and a regrettable sign of the times.
Editor’s note: an earlier version of this piece was first published in UnHerd.




Democrats accuse Republicans of being in a cult. I wonder what Fetterman, Sinema, and Manchin think about that?
In his book on early 80s neoliberal Democrats, Randall Rothenberg pointed out that the voting records of neoliberals in Congress were barely any different from those of more straightforwardly liberal Dems, yet a lot of people in their own party were suspicious of them. It's all too common for differences in style and emphasis to lead to huge condemnations from a person's own side.