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In a response video circulating on September 22, Brandon Herrera, the Republican nominee in Texas’s 23rd Congressional District, described his remarks about mothers and children as “a bit crass” but said “the sentiment stands”. His response renewed a question that extends beyond one candidate: what responsibility do parties bear before voters make their choice?
Elections are supposed to make politicians accountable. Candidates ask voters to judge their records, their positions, and their conduct, and voters ultimately decide who will represent them. But that familiar picture of democracy leaves out an important part of the process: much of the work shaping the general-election choice happens earlier. Parties recruit candidates, political organizations support them, donors help finance them, and influential political figures give them credibility. Herrera’s candidacy offers a revealing example of how that process works.
Before entering politics, Herrera was better known as a conservative YouTuber, gun-rights activist, and firearms manufacturer. Known online as “The AK Guy,” he built a following of more than four million subscribers. That audience helped him make the transition from a prominent figure in online gun culture to a serious political candidate. He became the Republican nominee after incumbent Rep. Tony Gonzales withdrew from their primary runoff in March.
Herrera’s political profile is not defined only by his views on the Second Amendment. A CNN review of hundreds of videos, hours of podcasts, and social-media posts documented repeated vulgar and degrading comments about women. He used derogatory language about feminists in Austin and directed sexually explicit insults at gun-safety advocate Shannon Watts and her children. CNN said some of the language was too explicit to repeat on air.
Those examples are only part of Herrera’s controversial online record. Reports have also examined jokes about veteran suicide, references to the Holocaust, and the use of Nazi-era imagery. Herrera has defended the material as provocative humor. His campaign has similarly characterized some of the comments as jokes. The dispute is not simply about whether the material exists. It is also about how much weight voters and political institutions should give it, and whether past online behavior can be separated from the person seeking public office today.
But the more important political question is how party leaders and political institutions have responded.
House Speaker Mike Johnson has endorsed Herrera and helped raise money for his campaign. Asked on September 13 about Herrera’s past comments, Johnson called the language “detestable” but said Herrera had apologized. He attributed the remarks to Herrera’s former online persona as a podcaster and provocateur, while continuing to support him as a serious candidate for Congress.
That is where the Herrera controversy becomes larger than a dispute over social-media posts. Political parties are not just collections of ideas and principles. They are also organizations built to win elections, hold seats, and advance their political agendas. Those goals can come into tension with public expectations about accountability and standards of conduct. A party may condemn a candidate’s language while still deciding that supporting him is more important electorally than distancing itself from him.
That does not mean Republicans and Democrats are identical or treat every controversial candidate the same way. Nor does one congressional race prove that voters are left with a powerless ballot. The narrower question is how much responsibility parties accept for the choices they help put before voters.
Voters see candidates, compare them, and choose. But the process begins much earlier, with primary contests, fundraising networks, organizational support, and endorsements. Primary voters help determine the nominees; party leaders and donors also influence which candidates gain resources and credibility. Herrera’s online following, political activism, and endorsement from the Freedom Caucus Fund helped build his institutional support during the Republican primary.
General-election voters therefore choose among options shaped by earlier decisions, including those of primary voters. They retain the power to reject a candidate. But that power does not remove the responsibility of the institutions that helped bring the candidate to the ballot.
This is not unique to Herrera. Candidates in both parties have faced scrutiny over past statements and social-media posts. The circumstances vary, but the broader question remains: what happens when the incentive to win an election conflicts with the responsibility to hold candidates to meaningful standards?
If a party condemns a candidate’s conduct but continues to endorse him, raise money for him, and campaign for him, what practical weight does that condemnation carry? Should standards be enforced before the general election, or should accountability be left entirely to voters?
The Herrera case does not provide a definitive answer. But it exposes a weakness in the idea that elections alone guarantee political accountability. Elections give voters the power to remove politicians from office. They do not necessarily ensure that every candidate placed before voters has already passed through an effective process of institutional accountability.
Democracy also depends on what parties and political organizations do before Election Day: whom they recruit, nominate, endorse, and defend. If holding a seat becomes the overriding objective, accountability is weakened before voters enter the polling booth. Elections give voters a choice; they do not absolve parties of responsibility for the candidates they support.
Peter Rodgers is an international relations analyst and an independent journalist.
Nigeria flag, elections, ballot box, casting vote.
For years, American institutions helped Nigerian civic groups train election observers, track political violence and challenge false information. As Nigeria approaches its 2027 elections, the organizations that developed that expertise face a different question: how much of the work can they sustain with less financial and technical support?
Dauda Garuba, director of the Centre for Democracy and Development (CDD West Africa), sees the change as part of a broader shift in American foreign policy. But he also believes it invites an uncomfortable assessment of Nigeria’s elections.
“So much has been invested in the past that has not produced matching results,” he said.
Founded in 1997, CDD combines research, training and advocacy on democracy across West Africa. A recent analysis published by the organization argues that the 2027 elections will test whether democratic institutions can deliver meaningful improvements in citizens’ lives.
Garuba’s assessment captures one concern among Nigerian civil society leaders: what years of international assistance have achieved. Another is what could happen if that assistance continues to shrink.
Bukola Idowu, executive director of Kimpact Development Initiative, or KDI, said reduced American support threatens the activities through which civic groups scrutinize elections and demand accountability. The effects, he said, extend beyond budgets to the cooperation that helped organizations develop their methods.
“The funding cuts and changing U.S. foreign policy priorities have affected not only the resources available to Nigerian organisations but also opportunities for technical cooperation, institutional learning and cross-border collaboration,” he said.
Across interviews with three civil society leaders, a complicated picture emerges. American partnerships helped establish observation systems, train practitioners and expand public scrutiny of elections. Yet institutional failures and distrust persisted. Preparations for 2027 are forcing Nigerian organizations to consider how they will finance their work, what they can manage independently and why stronger technical capacity has not consistently produced better elections.
The relationship extends beyond Washington’s dealings with the Nigerian government. American nongovernmental institutions—including the National Democratic Institute, the International Republican Institute and the International Foundation for Electoral Systems—have worked with civic groups, political parties and electoral authorities. Government agencies, foundations and other donors have financed different parts of that cooperation.
Financial assistance has supported operations. Technical assistance has helped develop the skills, methods and systems behind them. The knowledge can survive a grant, but putting it to work across a country requires continued resources.
The policy shift began early in President Trump’s second term. On January 20, 2025, he ordered a 90-day pause in new obligations and disbursements of foreign development assistance pending a review. Agencies were instructed to determine which programs should continue, change or end, with assistance required to advance the administration’s foreign policy.
Idowu describes the subsequent decline in democracy assistance as the most significant difference from the 2019 and 2023 election cycles. Garuba cautions against treating it principally as a policy directed at Nigeria. He connects it to priorities articulated during Trump’s campaign and a wider international turn toward populist policies.
Neither account establishes that disagreements between Abuja and Washington over security or counterterrorism caused particular reductions. Their concern is the effect of changing American priorities on partnerships developed over many years.
CDD’s experience offers a practical example of what those partnerships helped build.
Garuba said NDI support enabled the organization to strengthen its work on misinformation, disinformation and hate speech. Its activities included fact-checking, examining deepfakes and training government agencies, including the National Orientation Agency.
He credits that work with helping defuse false information capable of triggering conflict. It also illustrates how electoral assistance has expanded: civic organizations now scrutinize the information citizens encounter before voting, alongside the conduct of polling and counting.
At KDI, American cooperation has included monitoring threats to voters before election day.
An IFES account of the 2020 governorship elections in Edo and Ondo identifies KDI as a subaward recipient under its election violence program. Community monitors tracked incidents and warning signs, while KDI shared information with electoral officials, security agencies and peace advocates. IFES provided technical assistance to expand monitoring of violence against women.
The work depended on Nigerian relationships. KDI engaged traditional authorities and local peace structures, mapped areas at risk and supplied assessments intended to inform preventive action. A mobile application helped collect incident reports and shorten the time needed to review and verify them, according to IFES.
Idowu also described cooperation with IFES on electoral justice, including attention to post-election litigation and the judiciary’s responsibility to protect electoral integrity.
These activities grew within a longer history of American institutional engagement.
Ugochukwu James Okpe, regional general secretary of the West African Civil Society Forum, recalls Project Swift Count before the 2011 elections as an early example of cooperation around independent verification. Okpe is also a former convener and current member of the Nigeria Civil Society Situation Room.
An NDI presentation from 2011 describes Swift Count as a joint initiative of Nigerian organizations combining statistical sampling with mobile phone reporting. Participants included the Federation of Muslim Women’s Associations in Nigeria, Justice Development and Peace/Caritas, the Nigerian Bar Association and the Transition Monitoring Group. Reports from sampled polling units provided a benchmark for checking official results.
By 2015, those methods were an established part of citizen observation. NDI’s international mission worked closely with the Transition Monitoring Group, a coalition of more than 400 organizations. TMG deployed over 4,000 observers and used a representative sample of 1,507 polling units for its parallel vote tabulation, also called a quick count.
That election produced Nigeria’s first peaceful presidential transfer between political parties. It supplied a reference point for what democratic competition could achieve and expectations that subsequent elections would improve.
Christopher Fomunyoh, then NDI’s senior associate and regional director for Central and West Africa, described the institution’s approach in congressional testimony in 2016.
“NDI’s work has helped support Nigerian efforts to advance democratic governance and electoral processes that reflect the will of the people,” he testified. He identified support from American government agencies, the National Endowment for Democracy, the Ford Foundation and Britain’s development agency.
In 2019, American-supported citizen observation generated another extensive independent record. With NDI assistance, Yiaga Africa deployed 3,030 observers to a representative sample of 1,515 polling units. According to NDI, observers transmitted 33,000 coded text messages containing nearly 550,000 data points.
The official vote shares for the two leading presidential candidates fell within Yiaga’s estimated ranges. Observers also documented late openings and questions surrounding cancelled results. Agreement on the overall figures did not resolve every concern about the process.
The 2023 elections exposed that distinction again.
NDI and IRI’s USAID-supported observation mission recorded logistical, technological and communication failures, political violence and instances of vote manipulation. Its final assessment acknowledged improvements but concluded that the elections fell short of citizens’ reasonable expectations. Participation in the national contests was only 27 percent of registered voters, according to the report.
Idowu described the period between 2019 and 2023 as one of substantial change: a new electoral law, wider deployment of technology, greater citizen observation and increased political competition. Those developments coexisted with operational failures, weak accountability and distrust.
“These experiences demonstrate both the value of international cooperation and the need for sustained domestic institutional reform,” he said.
Garuba’s criticism presses further. In his view, elections’ failure to deliver sufficient change can furnish an argument against continued investment. He offered that as an assessment of Nigeria’s electoral record, rather than evidence explaining a specific donor decision.
The question exposes a limit of technical assistance. Better observation can produce stronger evidence. It cannot compel authorities to implement recommendations, political parties to abandon intimidation or institutions to earn public confidence.
Okpe believes Nigerian institutions must take greater responsibility for what follows. Years of assistance have reached electoral authorities, policymakers, political parties and civil society, he said. The expertise acquired should help them navigate a period of reduced support.
He also challenges a picture in which knowledge moved only into Nigeria.
His example is Situation Room: organizations pooling information, assessing developments together and responding to emerging electoral problems. The coalition dates its establishment to 2010, ahead of the 2011 elections, when civic groups sought better coordination and faster responses.
Okpe described it as a Nigerian initiative that attracted interest and adoption elsewhere. For him, its survival across successive elections demonstrates the institutional knowledge local practitioners have developed.
Garuba likewise sees election observation as a field of shared international experience. Recent American presidential elections, particularly the two that brought Trump to power, have encouraged Nigerians to scrutinize a system some previously regarded as largely immune to error, he said.
That assessment complicates the conventional account of assistance. Nigerian organizations can draw on American expertise while questioning American democratic practice and contributing lessons from their own experience.
Some institutional cooperation has continued. NDI reported assisting Yiaga during Anambra’s 2025 governorship election with sampling, observer recruitment checks and reporting systems. The observation effort formed part of an EU-funded initiative, showing how American technical involvement can operate within arrangements financed by other partners.
But continued cooperation in one election does not establish the resources available for a national contest.
Idowu said Nigerian organizations were adapting programs, strengthening local partnerships and exploring alternative funding. He warned that the reduction comes as democratic institutions across West Africa face pressure from military takeovers, restrictions on civic activity and declining public confidence.
“At a time when democracy in our region requires stronger international solidarity and institutional support, we are witnessing a reduction in some of the very partnerships that helped strengthen democratic accountability,” he said.
For CDD, the concern also reaches beyond the mechanics of an election. Its recent analysis argues that citizens judge democracy through security, opportunity, public services and accountable institutions. A credible vote matters within that larger expectation that government should improve their lives.
The skills developed through years of cooperation remain in Nigerian hands. Whether organizations can deploy them at the necessary scale is less certain. Whether the findings will produce reform is a question that earlier elections have left unresolved.
Idris Mohammed is a Ph.D. student at the University of Alabama concentrating in Journalism & Creative Media and a fall Fulcrum Fellow.
The 50: Kentucky
More than half of America’s military veterans identify as independents, not Democrats or Republicans. Yet in many states with closed primary systems, those voters are barred from participating in taxpayer-funded primary elections. Because veterans swear an oath to defend the Constitution, not a political party, a growing coalition of veteran-led organizations is advocating for open primaries and other electoral reforms designed to expand voter participation and strengthen representative democracy.
In Kentucky, veterans have emerged as leading voices in a nonpartisan campaign to open the Commonwealth’s closed primary system. Their efforts come as the state's electorate shifts: independent voters are the fastest-growing segment of registered voters.
Heading into the 2026 midterm elections, independent registration is outpacing growth among both major parties. In July 2026, new independent registrations surpassed those of Republicans and Democrats combined. Independents now make up roughly 11% of Kentucky voters, but the Commonwealth remains the only Southern state with a fully closed primary system, which prevents non-affiliated voters from participating in elections that often determine who ultimately holds office.
For many Kentuckians, the issue isn't partisanship; it's representation. They pay taxes that help fund primary elections yet have no voice in selecting the candidates who appear on the general election ballot. Among them is Jessica McWhorter, a Marine veteran and Libertarian voter, who says the disconnect raises fundamental questions about fairness and participation in the democratic process:
It's not like I'm getting to vote for my representation; it's pretty much I have to take what I get, which is just not right. That's not what—when we first had this idea of a republic, that's not what it was based off of. Everybody was just Americans."
Known affectionately as "Mac" within many of her networks, Jessica McWhorter is heavily involved in high-level leadership roles dedicated to supporting fellow service members. She serves in the Veterans of Foreign Wars (VFW) as the Department of Kentucky State Student Veterans Chairman and as both Commander of Millsprings VFW Post 269 and a District 11 officer. Her extensive dedication to the organization has earned her national recognition, holding the title of National Aide-de-Camp to the VFW Commander-in-Chief. Beyond her work with the VFW, McWhorter collaborates with organizations like the Kentucky Department of Veterans Affairs (KDVA) to foster community and share vital, life-changing resources tailored for women veterans.
I spoke with McWhorter and other veterans for an episode of The Fulcrum's award-winning series The 50: Voices of a Nation, which explores how participation, representation, and trust are shaping civic life across the Commonwealth.
- YouTube youtu.be
Veterans’ advocate Daniel Collins emphasizes that the consequences of closed primaries extend far beyond administrative access, striking at the core of civic trust and representation:
"I'm not blue, I'm not red, I am Dan. And the more they try to label me one way or the other, the less American they are. And I will let them know that. Like, you can go ahead and paint me one way or the other, but that's not the American thing to do. The American thing to do is unite."
Collins is a military veteran and grassroots election reform advocate in Kentucky who serves as a prominent nonpartisan voice campaigning to open the state's closed primary voting system to the fast-growing segment of independent voters. As a Kentucky State Leader for Veterans for All Voters—a national, veteran-led organization that champions election innovation and voting access—Collins actively fights to keep independent taxpayers out of primary voting loops. Driven by a philosophy that prioritizes national unity over political labeling, his grassroots work focuses on bridging political divides, restoring civic trust, and ensuring every voter has an equal voice in the democratic process.
Reform advocates with organizations such as"The mere fact, as a veteran, to say that I have served and I am paying taxes, and you are a private organization that is not in the Constitution—you are essentially a social club, and politics is what you talk about—that you are telling me as an American citizen that I can't vote, I think that is outrageous."
After a 34-year career in the U.S. Army and U.S. Army Reserve, Ritter has become a prominent advocate for voting reform in Kentucky, focusing his efforts on dismantling the state's closed primary system. As an independent voter, Ritter campaigns against excluding non-partisan citizens from primary elections, arguing from a place of fiscal fairness. He contends that because public tax dollars fully fund polling stations, voting machines, and election workers, shutting out independent taxpayers is fundamentally unfair and effectively forces them to subsidize elections they are legally barred from participating in.
Representative Adam Moore, a Democrat representing District 45 in the Kentucky House of Representatives, has dedicated his first term to championing veteran affairs, medical affordability, and consumer advocacy for his constituents in Fayette and Jessamine counties. Proving a strong commitment to bipartisan collaboration, he founded and chairs Kentucky's first-ever bipartisan Veterans Caucus to better support the state's military community. In addition to his advocacy for veterans, Moore has backed vital healthcare legislation to lower epinephrine costs, delivering tangible relief to families managing severe medical conditions.
Moore acknowledges the ongoing debate between maintaining historical electoral traditions and adapting to modern voter demographics. While Kentucky has enacted notable voting reforms in recent years—such as expanding early voting, clarifying voter identification rules, and streamlining absentee ballot procedures—Representative Moore notes that lawmakers must resolve whether the primary system reflects today’s electorate or one from decades past.
"Where people used to care more about the person who's running, now people care more about whether it's an R or a D, or red or blue. People have gotten more divisive in their politics, and so we have kind of grown apart within that closed primary system."
Community leaders stress that resolving this tension is vital to maintaining public faith in democratic institutions. Liza Holland, President of the League of Women Voters in Lexington, notes that access to the ballot and public trust are inextricably linked:
"I do believe that the exclusionary nature of primaries here really does have an effect on the apathy that happens in our elections. ... If you don't feel like your voice is heard or matters, what's the incentive to get involved in the process?"
Holland champions non-partisan voter education and robust civic engagement. Outside of her leadership with the League, she is a dedicated educational consultant and entrepreneur, operating as the "Chief Curiosity Officer" for her firm, Better Questions for Brighter Futures, and as President of Holland Management Services. Her multi-faceted work in the Lexington community spans hosting the Voting Matters podcast on WUKY to being publicly recognized by the Lexington History Museum for her contributions to local civic life.
As the 2026 midterm elections draw near, the debate over primary reform extends beyond partisan politics—serving as a broader benchmark for whether Kentucky will update its voting structures to reflect an increasingly independent and engaged electorate.Hugo Balta is the executive editor of The Fulcrum and the publisher of the Latino News Network
A former Miss Texas and Texas House candidate explains why judges, DAs, school boards and city councils shape daily life, and why your vote counts for more there.
I grew up in a small Texas town, and for most of my life I had one plan: leave. I didn’t hate it. I just assumed the interesting stuff happened somewhere else.
Then I became Miss Texas and spent a year driving all over this state. I met people in towns smaller than mine who ran food pantries out of church basements and coached Little League with no budget. They showed up for each other in ways that never made the news. That year changed my mind about Texas.
I started seeing what it could be, not just what it was.
People love to say all eyes are on Texas. Lately, that feels truer than ever. This election season has been loud, expensive, and mostly happening on our phones. Every scroll brings another ad, another clip, another person telling me everything is on the line.
And somewhere in all that noise, I think we lost the part most people care about—local races.
I don’t mean it as a civic-duty, eat-your-vegetables thing. I mean it selfishly, and I think that’s fine. People care about their own lives first. Their rent, their kids’ school, the road they take to work. On a plane, they tell you to put your own oxygen mask on before helping anyone else. Voting can work the same way.
The Senate and governor’s races matter. I’m not pretending they don’t. But keep scrolling down your ballot, past the names you’ve seen on TV, and beyond. Texas Supreme Court justices. District judges. Your district attorney. Then, in the spring, school board and city council. These are the people deciding who gets charged, how your custody case goes, what your kids learn, and whether your street ever gets fixed. If you aren’t sure where to start, local newspapers, nonpartisan voter guides, and your county’s website often have simple breakdowns about who is running and what these offices do. It is easier than it seems to find out what matters in your community.
Those races get a fraction of the attention and turnout. Which means your vote goes a lot further there.
I know how this might sound coming from me. I ran for the Texas House at 26 and lost. About $2 million went into that race, and some days it felt like it all went down the drain. You’d think that would make me jaded.
Some days it did.
But it also taught me something. Almost nobody I met at their door wanted to talk about whatever national fight was trending that week. They wanted to talk about property taxes and schools. Local stuff. Their stuff.
There’s a trend online right now about 2016 nostalgia. People are posting about how the world felt right before that election, when things seemed mostly okay, and the future didn’t feel so scary. They’re calling it millennial optimism.
I get it. I miss that feeling too. But I don’t think we get it back by scrolling through old photos. I think we get a little of it back by paying attention to what’s close to home, the stuff we can actually watch change.
So this year I’m voting the whole ballot, top to bottom. And when the spring elections come around, I’m showing up for those too.
Selfishly. For my own block. And if enough of us do that, it starts to look a lot like caring about everyone else’s block. If you’re voting this year, tell a friend or a neighbor your plan. Invite them to go with you, or just share when you went and how it went. A simple conversation can remind us that we’re in this together.
Averie Bishop is a Democracy Architects Fellow and a lawyer, former Miss Texas, and Democracy Architects Council Fellow. She ran for the Texas State Legislature at 26 and now talks local politics, pop culture, and life in Dallas with nearly a million followers online.
