For my life, I couldn’t understand Kyrsten Sinema’s game.

As frustrating as it may be, Joe Manchin at least makes some sort of sense. He is the last major Democrat standing in a state that Donald Trump won by 40 points. Despite being a fixture in West Virginia politics, he was barely re-elected in the blue wave of 2018. If he runs again, he’s almost certain to lose in 2024; any chance of winning will force him to distance himself from the Democratic Party.

Besides, Manchin never claimed to be progressive or liberal. The Maserati-driving coal millionaire is only considered a “moderate” because the Republican Party has skewed our perception of what conservatism looks like. And obviously, he really gets high on his own.

The thing is, he doesn’t need the Democratic Party. There is nothing Chuck Schumer or Joe Biden can do for him or for him. But they need him to accomplish anything. He holds the cards.

Sinema is another story. Of course, as long as she’s one of 50 Senate Democrats, the Arizona senator can block legislation the same way Manchin did — and she did. She’s been an enthusiastic thorn in the side of the administration to raise the minimum wage, curb pharmacy, tax the wealthy, fight climate change and, most recently, protect voting rights from Republican attacks at the government level. State.

Of course, Sinema isn’t saying she opposes suffrage legislation. But she, like Manchin, refuses to consider changing the Senate filibuster to allow that legislation to pass in the face of a Republican blockade. Effectively, it’s the same thing.

Unlike Manchin, however, Sinema has something to lose. Or, at least, you would think she does.

Sinema’s stubbornness did not endear her to her home country. His endorsement ratings are slightly submerged. Interestingly, most of his support comes from Republicans; most Democrats don’t like it. In fact, nearly three-quarters of Arizona Democrats say they would back someone else in a primary.

Arizona is a swing state just right of center. Sinema and Biden narrowly won it in 2018 and 2020, respectively. Politically, it makes sense to counter the party from time to time.

But ostensibly limiting the president’s agenda at every turn isn’t the only path to victory. Mark Kelly, the Democrat who won a special election in 2020 to serve out the remainder of John McCain’s term, is also slightly underwater. But according to the GOP nominee, his run is considered a draw or lean Dem.

Sinema, on the other hand, is a walking dead senator. Either she will get the primary in 2024 and lose, or she will run as an independent and lose. When given the choice, Republicans who tell pollsters they approve of her performance — that is, they approve of her being a roadblock — will opt for a True Believer. She must know it.

Again, former colleagues have described her as bright but self-absorbed, believing she’s the smartest person in the room. Maybe she thinks she’s seeing something everyone missed.

It is possible that she will leverage her relationships with major donors in a consulting firm or a high-level corporate position at the end of her term. On Twitter, Amy Siskind, president of women’s advocacy organization The New Agenda, said an Arizona insider told her that Sinema plans to run for president in 2024. “as a middle candidate. She convinced herself that it was her calling.

I wouldn’t pass him by, if only because it’s clear that Sinema’s only North Star is his own ambition. Ideology is irrelevant. She ran for office as a Green Party activist, and now she’s Fox News’ favorite Democrat.

His loyalty to the filibuster makes sense when viewed through this prism. She can pretend to talk about suffrage legislation while making sure the bill never sees the light of day.

So last Thursday, just before President Biden came to Capitol Hill to urge Senate Democrats to create a voting disqualification, Sinema went to the Senate to announce that she would not. “We only have one democracy,” she said. “We can only survive, we can only keep her if we do it together.”

Certainly, she is not stupid enough to believe that.

Surely, Sinema knows that the filibuster’s origin story is not that of a protector of democracy but of a defender of white supremacy – who before its use became de rigueur, white supremacists deployed the filibuster against civil rights and anti-discrimination bills in 1874, 1875, 1945, 1948, 1949, 1950, 1954, 1957, 1960, 1962, 1963, 1964, 1966, 1968, 1972, 1976 and 1984, as well as against the lynching litigations in 1921, 1922, 1925, 1935 and 1938, the creation of a monument to black soldiers of World War I in 1926, an extension of the Voting Rights Act in 1982 and the creation of the federal holiday Martin Luther King Jr. Day in 1983.

Surely Sinema knows that the filibuster is being used in the same way here, not to help democracy, but to break it. And by refusing to throw it away, it not only distances the country from majority rule, but it also allows, in this case, the Republican legislatures to make it more difficult for blacks and browns to vote.

It is the opposite of democracy.

It is also the opposite of a functioning government. The filibuster of modern times produces perpetual stalemate, which leads to dysfunctional government. Dysfunctional and ineffective government erodes trust in institutions, which gives rise to conspiracy theories and radicalism, which leads to more dysfunctional government.

Sinema probably knows that too.