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.
We’ve recently seen the power of a “discharge petition” regarding the Epstein files, and how it required only a few Republican signatures to force a vote on the House floor—despite efforts by the Trump administration and Congressional GOP leadership to keep the files sealed. Amazingly, we witnessed the power again with the vote to force House floor consideration on extending the Affordable Care Act (ACA) subsidies.
Why is it amazing? Because in the 21st century, fewer than a half-dozen discharge petitions have succeeded. And, three of those have been in the last few months. Most House members will go their entire careers without ever signing on to a discharge petition.
So why, given the many actions of the current administration that face widespread public concern, aren’t we seeing a wave of discharge petitions forcing votes on other issues with broad public support? Many such actions have nearly unanimous Democratic opposition, and even quiet dissent from many Republicans,
The answer lies in the deliberate complexity of House rules, the structure of power, and the political incentives that constrain members’ choices.
The discharge petition is one of Congress’s most intriguing procedural tools—and one of the clearest illustrations of how House rules are designed less to enable majority decision-making than to protect party leadership. In theory, a discharge petition allows rank-and-file members to bypass committee and leadership obstruction and force a vote on a stalled bill. In practice, it is rarely successful.
The discharge petition process is one of the most egregious examples of how both parties have endorsed a complicated procedure designed to frustrate what should be a method to allow widespread public opinion to overpower party politics. It is simply one of many rules that tend to encourage party control over thoughtful governing.
Once a bill has sat in committee for 30 legislative days, any House member may file a discharge petition. If 218 members—a majority of the House—sign it, the measure becomes eligible for floor consideration. Signatures are public, recorded in the Congressional Record, and must be added in person at the Clerk’s desk. Members may remove their names only before the petition reaches 218.
Even after clearing that hurdle, the petition does not go directly to the floor. It can be considered only on narrow procedural windows—the second or fourth Monday of a month—and only after additional waiting periods. Each step introduces delay, uncertainty, and opportunity for leadership intervention.
Further complicating the procedure, House members rarely use discharge petitions to bring bills directly to the floor. Doing so forces consideration under regular House rules, which means opening the measure to unlimited amendments, motions to recommit, and poison-pill provisions that can gut or derail it.
To avoid this chaos, members increasingly use discharge petitions to target “special rules”—resolutions from the Rules Committee that structure debate and limit amendments. Discharging a special rule allows supporters to protect the bill from procedural sabotage.
But even this workaround contains a built-in kill switch.
At virtually any point, the Speaker can bring the special rule to the floor and move to table it. The motion is non-debatable, requires only a simple majority, and effectively nullifies the petition. The petition may remain technically “alive,” but it has no remaining path to obtain a floor vote.
This design is not accidental. It ensures that discharge petitions succeed only when leadership fears real and overwhelming political backlash from blocking a vote. Absent that pressure, leadership control prevails.
Even with intense public pressure, procedural barriers alone do not explain the rarity of successful discharge petitions. The political risks to individual members are equally decisive.
Discharge petition signatures are public acts of defiance. Members who sign openly challenge their party leadership, exposing themselves to retaliation: loss of committee assignments, diminished legislative support, leadership-funded primary challengers, and, in today’s climate, even threats from outside interests against themselves or their families.
As a result, many members who privately support a petition’s goals or who receive extensive constituent pressure may refuse to sign it. On partisan or controversial issues, the handful of cross-party votes needed to reach 218 rarely materialize. The incentives overwhelmingly favor silence over action.
Most modern discharge petitions are filed not because supporters expect success, but because they function as messaging tools. They signal commitment to constituents, interest groups, and the media, even when members know the petition will never reach the floor.
This symbolic role has value. It can shape narratives, apply pressure, and encourage negotiations. But it also underscores a troubling reality: the procedure that should empower the House as a whole has been reduced to a form of political theater.
Discharge petitions expose a fundamental tension in the House. Members are elected to represent their districts, yet are constrained by party loyalty enforced through rules, committee control, and leadership retaliation.
Even bills with broad bipartisan or public support may never receive a vote. Power is concentrated in the hands of a few leaders, protected by procedural architecture that prioritizes party unity over majority will. It is a vivid example of “party over country” embedded not just in rhetoric, but in the rules themselves.
The discharge petition process reveals a deeper imbalance in the House of Representatives. Legislative power does not reside primarily with the body as a whole, but with self-imposed leadership structures that are not mandated by the Constitution. Political parties and procedural rules are internal creations, designed to protect control rather than encourage deliberation and good government.
The Founders warned against concentrated power. Yet today, even when rank-and-file members, advocacy groups, and the public align, simple procedural maneuvers can block action entirely. This reality highlights why structural reform—particularly of committee power and floor rules—is essential if Congress is ever to function in the public interest.
Discharge petitions are among the most democratic ideas in House procedure, offering a way for members to assert themselves against leadership control. In practice, they are slow, risky, and easily neutralized. They survive less as instruments of good governance than as reminders of how tightly power is held by a few in today’s Congress.
Until House rules are reformed, even widely supported legislation will remain hostage to leadership preferences, and discharge petitions will continue to be exceptions rather than pathways to majority-driven policymaking. The rules could be changed at any time—but doing so would require the leadership's consent to the very rules those rules are designed to protect. The paradox of House rules defines the modern dysfunction in governing and explains why the party often prevails over the country. The public, non-governmental organizations (NGOs), and civic leaders need to focus their energies on changing the rules rather than individual policies.
Jeff Dauphin, aka J.P. McJefferson, is retired. Blogging on the "Underpinnings of a Broken Government." Founded and ran two environmental information & newsletter businesses for 36 years. Facilitated enactment of major environmental legislation in Michigan in the 70s. Community planning and engineering. BSCE, Michigan Technological University.

The media loves to tell you your government isn't working, even when it is. Don't let anyone tell you 2025 was an unproductive year for Congress. [Edit: To clarify, I don't mean the government is working for you.]
At 1,976 pages of new law enacted since President Trump took office, including an increase of the national debt limit by $4 trillion, any journalist telling you not much happened in Congress this year is sleeping on the job.
Using rules that exempt certain bills from the filibuster, Congress passed (and President Trump signed into law) the 330-page "reconciliation" bill which included tax breaks adding $500 billion to the deficit; new limits on Medicaid, SNAP, federal student loads, and green energy; and $171 billion for immigration enforcement, making ICE the largest law enforcement agency in the United States. Also exempt from the filibuster was the "rescissions" bill which slashed most funding for foreign aid (saving about $800 million and potentially causing 1 million deaths world-wide and a geopolitical vacuum that China is ready to fill) and public broadcasting (saving about $100 million).
Those were perhaps the most controversial bills ever enacted, with senators voting yes on the reconciliation bill representing just 44% of the country's population. I don't think that's ever happened before and really captures the political climate. (For comparison, the Affordable Care Act, a.k.a. Obamacare, passed the Senate with the yea votes representing 62% of the country’s population.)
Earlier this month, Congress passed the 1,259-page National Defense Authorization Act, a yearly bill that sets military and related policies. This year, the NDAA incorporated 40 other bills on a range of topics, including police first aid kits and reuniting Korean American families with family members in North Korea. It also included a provision intended to force the Secretary of Defense to provide more information on the military strikes on Venezuelan civilian boats.
Using a rarely-used rule to override the Speaker of the House, legislators passed the Epstein Files Transparency Act to force the Trump Administration to release Epstein files. It's incredibly significant any time the Speaker loses control over the floor since setting the floor schedule is the Speaker's most important job.
Congress also quashed numerous Biden Administration regulations.
And the Senate confirmed 341 Trump nominees, which is a fairly fast pace.
196 bills were enacted. The mainstream media will tell you it's only 61 because they don't look at what's inside omnibus bills. Fewer bills are getting a vote and presidential signature, but they are getting longer and longer and often bundle a number of other bills. (That's a trend that started decades ago.)
The 1,976 pages Trump signed into law is on the low side: More than Reagan (1,528) and GW Bush (1,024) did by this point in their terms, less than the first Bush (2,518), Clinton (2,705), Obama (3,478), Trump in his first term (2,236), and Biden (2,450).
But more isn't better, and not every page of legislation enacted is actually important.
The reverse is also true. The just two pages cutting foreign aid has enormous domestic and geopolitical consequences.
It's also true that there are things that Congress hasn't done. Like not being in session. House Republicans took their chamber out of session for some 40 days vowing to not negotiate with Democrats to end October's government shutdown, only to come back into session to approve a bill negotiated with Democrats in the Senate.
They could have used that time to figure out agency funding levels for the remainder of the fiscal year after January. Instead, another government shutdown may be around the corner. (Congress is supposed to have figured this out before the fiscal year began on October 1.)
Nor has Congress done much for government efficiency, allowing Trump to fabricate cuts and fire Inspectors General, the abuse watchdogs at federal agencies. Republicans also hope to downsize Congress's abuse investigators at the Government Accountability Office. These cuts would cost taxpayers billions of dollars by allowing waste, fraud, and abuse to go unchecked. Or more likely, abuse would be checked just when it advances the President's interests.
Congress has also been silent on Trump's tariffs, despite the power to tariff being reserved to Congress. Congress could also address the Trump Administration's illegal deployment of National Guard troops in Illinois, or the swirling conflicts of interest in the Trump family.
Congress's productive 2025 (And don't let anyone tell you otherwise) was originally published by GovTrack and is republished with permission.

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.