IVN is joined by Nate Allen, founder and Executive Director of Utah Approves, to discuss Approval Voting and his perspective on changing the incentives of our elections.
Podcast: Seeking approval in Utah


IVN is joined by Nate Allen, founder and Executive Director of Utah Approves, to discuss Approval Voting and his perspective on changing the incentives of our elections.

The ACA subsidy deadline reveals how Republican paralysis and loyalty-driven leadership are hollowing out Congress’s ability to govern.
Picture a bridge with a clearly posted warning: without a routine maintenance fix, it will close. Engineers agree on the repair, but the construction crew in charge refuses to act. The problem is not that the fix is controversial or complex, but that making the repair might be seen as endorsing the bridge itself.
So, traffic keeps moving, the deadline approaches, and those responsible promise to revisit the issue “next year,” even as the risk of failure grows. The danger is that the bridge fails anyway, leaving everyone who depends on it to bear the cost of inaction.
This is precisely how Congress handled the impending expiration of the Affordable Care Act’s enhanced subsidies for millions of Americans in late 2025. The danger was clear, the consequences well understood, and yet GOP leadership allowed the policy cliff to approach simply because they could not—or would not—move their own caucus to act.
This paralysis reflects something deeper than ordinary partisan division. It points to a more troubling reality: one of America’s two major parties now struggles to govern at the most basic level.
House Republicans are not engaged in a substantive debate over health-care reform itself. Instead, they allowed a clear deadline to pass that will drive up premiums for millions because party leaders cannot control their caucus or accept even short-term responsibility for an existing law.
That failure marks a clear breakdown of leadership, where inaction flows directly from decisions made at the top. Speaker Mike Johnson refused to bring a clean extension of the ACA subsidies to the floor, despite a looming expiration date and consequences that were widely understood inside and outside Congress.
Instead of governing through regular order, Johnson attempted to block a vote entirely. The result was a procedural embarrassment: four moderate Republicans joined Democrats to force action through a discharge petition. It was an extraordinary step that signaled not bipartisan cooperation, but the collapse of party leadership and legislative control.
This was not a minor misstep or a tactical gamble. Leadership is the Speaker’s primary responsibility, and Johnson was elected by his party to exercise it. That role requires deciding when a vote must happen, managing internal dissent, and assembling a working majority even when the outcome is uncomfortable.
On the ACA subsidies, Johnson failed each of these tasks. With a clear deadline and well-documented consequences, he could neither marshal enough Republican votes to govern nor contain defections within his caucus. The result was not negotiation or strategy-driven delay, but a leadership vacuum at a moment when governing mattered most.
None of this should come as a surprise. Johnson emerged as Speaker only after weeks of chaos, when loyalty became more important than demonstrated governing skill. His elevation came only after Donald Trump publicly signaled his approval.
In today’s Republican Party, real power does not flow from the Speaker’s gavel so much as from Trump’s favor. Johnson was chosen not because he could manage a fractured conference, but because he proved himself reliably compliant with Trump’s priorities and instincts. That compliance carries a cost.
A Speaker selected for loyalty rather than leverage is ill-equipped to confront his own caucus, especially when governing requires choices that cut against the party’s dominant political narrative. The ACA subsidy fight exposes the predictable result: a House leader constrained by deference to Trump, unable to lead independently, and presiding over a party that can obstruct almost anything but struggles to govern when the stakes are clear.
This episode illustrates a broader democratic risk. When Congress cannot pass even time-sensitive, widely understood legislation, it teaches voters a corrosive lesson: representation does not guarantee results.
Over time, this failure pushes power away from the legislature and toward executive action, judicial intervention, and procedural brinkmanship. Policy increasingly happens through emergencies and workarounds rather than deliberation and lawmaking. The ACA subsidies are not an isolated case; they are a warning sign of what governance looks like when paralysis becomes routine.
What would it take to change this trajectory? Without corrective action, Congress risks locking in a model of non-governance in which foreseeable harm is accepted as routine and legislative authority steadily erodes.
The solutions are straightforward, even if the politics are not. House leadership must reassert the basic norms of governing, beginning with allowing votes on must-pass, time-sensitive legislation even when outcomes are politically inconvenient. Members of Congress, especially those in the majority, must treat preventing predictable harm as a governing obligation, not a concession. Lawmakers in both parties should resist the steady drift toward procedural shortcuts that mask leadership failure rather than resolve it.
More fundamentally, the Republican Party faces a choice it has deferred since the rise of Donald Trump a decade ago: whether it intends to function as a governing party or merely as an oppositional movement organized around one dominant figure. As long as loyalty to Donald Trump outweighs responsibility to the institution, paralysis will remain the norm.
The bridge will keep deteriorating, and Americans will keep paying the price for a Congress that sees the danger coming but cannot bring itself to act.
Robert Cropf is a Professor of Political Science at Saint Louis University.

U.S. Speaker of the House Mike Johnson (R-LA); House Chamber at the U.S. Capitol on December 17, 2025,.
The midterm elections for Congress won’t take place until November, but already a record number of members have declared their intention not to run – a total of 43 in the House, plus 10 senators. Perhaps the most high-profile person to depart, Republican Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene of Georgia, announced her intention in November not just to retire but to resign from Congress entirely on Jan. 5 – a full year before her term was set to expire.
There are political dynamics that explain this rush to the exits, including frustrations with gridlock and President Donald Trump’s lackluster approval ratings, which could hurt Republicans at the ballot box.
Rather than get swept away by a prospective “blue wave” favoring Democrats – or possibly daunted by the monumental effort it would take to survive – many Republicans have decided to fold up the beach chair and head home before the wave crashes.
As of now, two dozen Republican House members have either resigned from the House or announced their intent to not run for reelection in 2026. With only two exceptions – Republicans in 2018 and 2020 – this is more departures from either party at this point in the election calendar than any other cycle over the past 20 years.
There is also growing concern within the House Republican caucus that Greene’s announcement is a canary in the coal mine and that multiple resignations will follow.
As a political scientist who studies Congress and politicians’ reelection strategies, I’m not surprised to see many House members leaving ahead of what’s shaping up to be a difficult midterm for the GOP. Still, the sheer numbers of people not running tells us something about broader dissatisfaction with Washington.
Many planned departures are true retirements involving older and more experienced members.
For example, 78-year-old Democratic congressman Jerry Nadler is retiring after 34 years, following mounting pressure from upstart challengers and a growing consensus among Democrats that it’s time for older politicians to step aside. Nancy Pelosi, the former speaker who will turn 86 in March, is also retiring.
Sometimes, members of Congress depart for the same reasons other workers might leave any job. Like many Americans, members of Congress might find something more attractive elsewhere. Retiring members are attractive hires for lobbying firms and corporations, thanks to their insider knowledge and connections within the institution. These firms usually offer much higher salaries than members are used to in Congress, which may explain why more than half of all living former members are lobbyists of some kind.
Democrat Nancy Pelosi, who was first elected in 1986, will step down at the end of this Congress. Jose Luis Magana/APOther members remain ambitious for elective office and decide to use their position in Congress as a springboard for another position. Members of the House regularly retire to run for a Senate seat, such as, in this cycle, Democratic Rep. Haley Stevens of Michigan. Others run for executive offices, including governor, such as Republican Rep. Nancy Mace of South Carolina.
But some are leaving Congress due to growing frustration with the job and an inability to get things done. Specifically, many retiring members cite growing dysfunction within their own party, or in Congress as a whole, as the reason they’re moving on.
In a statement announcing his departure in June, Sen. Thom Tillis, R-N.C., mused that “between spending another six years navigating the political theater and partisan gridlock in Washington or spending that time with my family,” it was “not a hard choice” to leave the Senate.
In addition, there are a few other factors that can help explain why so many Republicans in particular are heading for the exits leading up to 2026.
The shifting of boundaries that has come with the mid-decade redistricting process in several states this year has scrambled members’ priorities. Unfamiliar districts can drive incumbents to early retirement by severing their connection with well-established constituencies.
In Texas, six Republicans and three Democrats – nearly a quarter of the state’s entire House delegation – are either retiring or running for other offices, due in part to that state’s new gerrymander for 2026.
All decisions about retirement and reelection are sifted through the filter of electoral and partisan considerations. A phenomenon called “thermostatic politics” predicts that parties currently in power, particularly in the White House, tend to face a backlash from voters in the following election. In other words, the president’s party nearly always loses seats in midterms.
In 2006 and 2018, for example, Republican members of Congress were weighed down by the reputations of unpopular Republican Presidents George W. Bush and Trump. Republicans had arguably even greater success in midterm elections during Barack Obama’s presidency.
Currently, 2026 looks like it will present a poor national environment for Republicans. Trump remains highly unpopular, according to polls, and Democrats are opening up a consistent lead in the “generic ballot” question, which asks respondents which party they intend to support in the 2026 midterms without reference to individual candidates.
Democrats have already been overperforming in special elections, as well as the general election in November in states such as New Jersey and Virginia, which held elections for governor. Democrats are on average running 13 points ahead of Kamala Harris’ performance in the 2024 election.
As a result, even Republicans in districts thought to be safe for their party may see themselves in enough potential danger to abandon the fight in advance.
One final, unique aspect of this election cycle with major consequences is not an electoral but an institutional one.
House conservatives are quietly revolting against Speaker Mike Johnson’s leadership style. That members may be frustrated enough not just to retire but resign in advance, leaving their seats temporarily vacant, is a notable sign of dysfunction in the U.S. House.
This also could have a major impact on policy, given how slim the Republicans’ majority in the lower chamber is already. Whatever the outcome of the midterms in November, these departures clearly matter in Washington and offer important signals about the chaos in Congress.
Charlie Hunt is an Associate Professor of Political Science at Boise State University.
Like many people over 60 and thinking seriously about retirement, I’ve been paying closer attention to Social Security, and recent changes have made me concerned.
Since its creation during the Great Depression, Social Security has been one of the most successful federal programs in U.S. history. It has survived wars, recessions, demographic change, and repeated ideological attacks, yet it continues to do what it was designed to do: provide a basic floor of income security for older Americans. Before Social Security, old age often meant poverty, dependence on family, or institutionalization. After its adoption, a decent retirement became achievable for millions.
The data tells a clear story about poverty reduction. In 1959, more than one in three seniors lived below the poverty line. Today, that figure is closer to one in ten, largely because of Social Security. Remove the program from the equation, and senior poverty would surge to levels not seen in generations. This is not a marginal safety net. It is the central pillar of retirement security for a large share of older Americans, including roughly 40 percent of retirees who rely on it for at least half of their income.
International comparisons reinforce the point. Many peer democracies, including Canada, Germany, and the Netherlands, rely more heavily on public pensions than the United States, but the underlying logic is the same: predictable, universal retirement income reduces elder poverty. Higher senior poverty rates in the U.S. reflect the thinness of the broader retirement system, not a failure of Social Security itself. In practice, the program often compensates for gaps elsewhere in the American welfare state.
That record makes Social Security’s trajectory under President Trump more concerning. Recent changes do not amount to sweeping benefit cuts, but they do alter how the program is funded, administered, and accessed. Social Security is not a failed program in need of radical reinvention. It is a successful one under strain, increasingly asked to absorb rising health care costs, disappearing pensions, and widening inequality. The question is not whether Social Security works. It plainly does. The question is whether policymakers will strengthen it or quietly undermine it through incremental changes that shift risk back onto seniors.
The changes that come next emerge less from headline legislation than from a steady accumulation of administrative decisions that reshape how the program functions day to day. They also fit squarely within the administration’s broader Department of Government Efficiency agenda, which emphasizes cost containment, automation, and workforce reduction across federal agencies.
This year, the Trump administration began altering Social Security through administrative and operational moves rather than major legislation. Cast as efficiency and modernization measures, these changes nonetheless carry real consequences for beneficiaries.
First, the administration ended Biden-era limits on overpayment recovery, allowing the Social Security Administration to recoup funds more aggressively. Because overpayments often result from agency error, the shift exposes retirees on fixed incomes to sudden benefit reductions with little ability to absorb the loss.
Second, the administration eliminated paper checks, requiring beneficiaries to receive payments electronically. While routine for most retirees, the change creates barriers for very elderly Americans and those without stable banking access, turning a technical adjustment into an access problem.
Third, the administration tightened identity verification requirements in the name of fraud prevention. Protecting the system is a legitimate goal, but heightened ID checks often function as gatekeeping devices, particularly for seniors with disabilities, outdated documents, or limited digital literacy.
Taken together, these steps point to a quiet but consequential shift, with the heaviest effects falling on low-income seniors, people with disabilities, and others who rely most heavily on in-person assistance and predictable benefits. Rather than cutting benefits outright, the administration is making Social Security leaner, more automated, and less forgiving. These changes attract little attention, but they shape how millions of Americans experience the program.
The next round of changes, scheduled for 2026, extends this pattern. Instead of addressing Social Security’s long-term financing challenges directly, the administration has favored measures with short-term political appeal that defer hard choices and shift risk onto beneficiaries.
On the campaign trail, Trump promised to eliminate federal taxes on Social Security benefits. That pledge never became law, largely because doing so would have accelerated the program’s insolvency. Instead, Congress enacted an enhanced tax deduction for Americans aged 65 and older. Beginning in 2026, some retirees will owe less federal tax on their benefits, and some will owe none at all. The relief is temporary, set to expire in 2028, and does little to stabilize the trust fund.
At the same time, the Social Security Administration plans to sharply reduce in-person services. Internal targets call for cutting field office visits roughly in half, accelerating the shift to online and phone-based systems. Field offices have long served as the program’s front door, providing hands-on help with retirement claims, disability applications, and benefit disputes. For seniors with limited digital access or complex cases, digital access is not a convenience but a necessity.
Seen together, these changes reveal a consistent governing approach, one enabled by congressional acquiescence and defined by administrative retrenchment and risk shifting rather than overt benefit cuts. Benefits are not being slashed outright, but access is narrowing, administrative burdens are rising, and fiscal pressures are being postponed. The result is a quieter form of retrenchment that preserves the appearance of stability while shifting real consequences onto millions of seniors, especially those least equipped to absorb new administrative and financial burdens.
Social Security’s great strength has always been its reliability. It does not promise wealth, but it has delivered something more important: dignity and security in old age. That achievement was not accidental. It reflects deliberate political choices to pool risk broadly, administer benefits simply, and treat retirement security as a collective responsibility.
What is happening now is not the sudden dismantling of Social Security, but something subtler.
Rather than relying on piecemeal administrative changes, Congress and the president should work together on durable reforms that preserve the program’s legacy and strengthen its long-term foundations. An important step Congress could take is to bolster Social Security’s finances through permanent revenue measures, such as raising or eliminating the payroll tax cap so high earners contribute at the same rate as everyone else. Administrative efficiency should not come at the expense of access for millions, so lawmakers should also require a baseline level of in-person service at Social Security field offices. Finally, Congress should assert stronger oversight of Social Security Administration decisions, including reporting requirements and clear guardrails to prevent misguided cost-cutting efforts from undermining benefit delivery.
The danger is not that Social Security will fail overnight, but that it will be slowly hollowed out. A program that still works remarkably well could become harder to navigate, less predictable, and less protective, especially for the seniors who depend on it most. That outcome is not inevitable; it is the result of political decisions. The question now is whether policymakers will honor that legacy by acting decisively to pass sensible, lasting reforms that strengthen the program rather than allowing it to erode.
Robert Cropf is a Professor of Political Science at Saint Louis University.

While we celebrate the Christmas season, hardworking Texans, who we all depend on to teach our children, respond to emergencies, and staff our hospitals, are fretting about where they will live when a recently passed housing bill takes effect in 2026.
Born out of a surge in NIMBY (“not in my backyard”) politics and fueled by a self-interested landlord lawmaker, HB21 threatens to deepen the state’s housing crisis by restricting housing options—targeting affordable developments and the families who depend on them.
The drastic changes in housing policy will have particularly devastating consequences for underserved communities across the state. Texas’s Latino community is a prime example. State data shows that a substantial portion of Texans who rely on income-restricted housing are Latino, and many of the neighborhoods where these developments are located are historically Latino areas already grappling with rising rents and stagnant wages.
In particular, a retroactive tax that is part of the law threatens to wipe out the affordability that has allowed these families to stay rooted in their communities, pushing them toward displacement at a scale not seen in years.
HB21 was pitched as a needed reform to deliver clarity and accountability to Texas’s affordable housing framework. The bill gained popularity among legislators, who bought into the narrative that it would close an alleged tax loophole for developers in the affordable housing space who partnered with government entities known as housing finance corporations (HFCs).
Yet in practice, HB21 reflects lawmakers' willingness to rush housing policy in response to political pressure rather than economic reality.
In places like San Antonio, El Paso, Houston, and the Rio Grande Valley, where affordable housing is already scarce, HB21 all but guarantees deeper housing insecurity, longer commutes for service-sector workers, and the erosion of cultural and economic anchors that have defined these communities for generations. Instead of expanding opportunity, HB21 effectively targets the very families who contribute so much to Texas’s workforce and cultural identity, making it harder for people to live where they work, raise their children, and build long-term wealth.
The bill was meant to overhaul the process through which affordable housing developers in qualify for tax exemptions from the state. But the legislation that passed went even further, applying retroactively to hundreds of completed affordable housing projects. That means buildings currently renting to working-class Texans at affordable rates stand to lose their tax exemptions and face huge bills that could force them to reconsider their ability to rent at those lower rates.
Thus, the law will destabilize public-private partnerships, deliberately unraveling of the very agreements that enabled the private sector to invest in affordable housing in the first place.
Developers are already warning that mass evictions and foreclosures could follow.
Even worse, the bill’s chief architect, Representative Gary Gates (R-28), has previously drawn scrutiny for potential conflicts of interest, as critics note that the restructuring of tax incentives and appraisal rules is likely to benefit his sprawling real estate portfolio directly.
Those effects justifiably raise serious concerns about whether HB21 was designed to serve Texans or to serve Gates. In fact, Rep. Gates recently set up an entity to serve as a front for his own properties and to intervene in a lawsuit challenging HB21 as unconstitutional. Critics argue that the maneuver is effectively an admission by Gates that his businesses will benefit from HB21 and would be hurt by the lawsuit challenging the law.
Housing advocates are fighting back to prevent HB21 from inflicting further damage. The Texas Workforce Housing Coalition recently filed suit, pointing out that HB21 is being used to retroactively strip tax exemptions from affordable housing projects that were legally established under prior law. The bill was set to go into full effect on Jan 1, 2027, but housing districts across the state are already stripping properties of previously granted approvals and exemptions.
For years, developers partnered with local housing finance corporations (HFCs) to produce units reserved for working families, relying on contractual tax exemptions that made these deals viable. HB21 requires rewriting these contracts after the fact, resulting in chaos: agreements are being questioned, financing structures disrupted, and long-term commitments disrupted.
Given the sweeping consequences HB21 is already producing, and the fact that tens of thousands of Texans stand to be affected, the Texas Legislature should immediately commission an independent, data-driven study examining the law’s economic, housing, and displacement impacts before they fully cascade across the state. Sound policymaking demands evidence, transparency, and deliberation, not rushed legislation that upends communities after the fact.
At the same time, the controversy surrounding HB21 underscores a deeper structural problem in Texas governance: the absence of an independent ethics commission with real enforcement authority. Texas lawmakers should move without delay to establish an ethics body empowered to investigate and sanction conflicts of interest, including cases like the one alleged against Rep. Gary Gates. Legislation that directly benefits—or even appears to benefit—a lawmaker’s private financial holdings erodes public trust. Without oversight and enforcement mechanisms, that erosion accelerates. Texans need politicians and policies that work for them, not against them.
The consequences of failing to uphold that standard are already clear. Texans have seen what happens when housing instability spreads unchecked: employers struggle to retain workers, schools lose students, and families who have invested years in their communities are pushed out. HB21 risks accelerating all of those harms. If Texas is serious about affordability, growth, and fairness, lawmakers must pause, study the damage, and act decisively. not just to fix a flawed housing law, but to reform the ethical safeguards that failed to prevent it.
Mario H. Lopez is the president of the Hispanic Leadership Fund, a public policy advocacy organization that promotes liberty, opportunity, and prosperity for all.