When Sen.-elect Troy Jackson defeated Sen. Susan Collins, R-Maine, by a comfortable seven-point margin, among those surprised were Jackson’s own voters. Polls leading up to the election gave him an average of nearly 51%. Yet in the final University of New Hampshire poll of the state, only 47% of his own backers thought he would defeat Collins.
Collins professed the same prediction two days before the election, noting that she “lagged behind her opponent” in the polls in 2020 but won, even as former President Joe Biden carried the state.
There was no repeat Tuesday. Collins’ career will come to an end after 30 years in the Senate. The dynamics that sunk her in Maine in part mirrored dynamics of the national tsunami: issues of affordability, democracy, immigration enforcement and standing up to President Donald Trump. But the incumbent’s loss also involved a breakdown of her brand.
Collins’ aspirations didn’t extend to systemic change but emphasized such things as funding piers and firehouses. Jackson’s message was more transformational.
Collins’ claims of centrism and bipartisanship had rested on two pillars — the issues of environmentalism and abortion rights — and on her image of independence. This election cycle, those pillars crumbled. Collins was more moderate than most of her Republican Senate colleagues and would occasionally criticize Trump, but her record undermined her self-presentation.
Collins had to deal with a ProPublica investigation alleging a pay-to-play scheme involving her and a Hawaii-based military contractor. Collins and her staff categorically denied the accusations. But the Maine media, which some previously characterized as compliant, readily reported on this and other less-than-flattering stories.
Collins’ aspirations didn’t extend to systemic change but emphasized such things as funding piers and firehouses. Jackson’s message was more transformational: countering billionaires, a healthcare system for all, etc. Simultaneously, with remarks like, “We can’t eat road salt,” Jackson deftly dismantled Collins’ emphasis on projects for towns at a time when people were more worried about taking care of their family’s food and heating needs. While Collins touted her power as chair of Senate Appropriations, Jackson asked Collins why she didn’t use her power to stop the Trump agenda.
Collins and her allies also made derogatory statements about Jackson’s family and his intelligence. Negative personal attacks can backfire in Maine. The Jackson campaign capitalized on classism in a Collins ad portraying the former state Senate president as qualified only to deliver wood by criticizing Collins’ untrustworthiness and her not recognizing Mainers’ needs.
A robust fundraising edge was not enough to save Collins either. No doubt this will go down as the most expensive Senate race in Maine, but some of the funds were spent unwisely. For example, Elon Musk’s millions included mailers celebrating Collins helping to create a “conservative Supreme Court” — the opposite of a message designed to appeal to split-ticket voters.
As surprising as her 2020 triumph was, it may be that Collins took the wrong lessons from that victory.
Collins’ loss imperfectly mirrored what happened to her mentor, former Sen. Margaret Chase Smith of Maine. While visiting Washington as a high school student in 1971, Collins met and spoke to Smith, who was finishing her fourth term in the chamber. But in 1972 Smith lost to Democrat Bill Hathaway — in large part because she seemed out of touch on the Vietnam War, just as Collins this year had seemed out of step on affordability and standing up to Trump.
After Smith left the Senate, she advised Collins during the latter’s early political career. Their relationship, however, is ironic, given why Smith remains a Maine political icon. The federal building in Bangor is named after Smith; its lobby features her Declaration of Conscience speech, delivered in 1950. In that address, Smith challenged the “red scare” rhetoric of former Sen. Joseph McCarthy and proclaimed that she “did not want to see the Republican party ride to political victory on the Four Horsemen of Calumly — Fear, Ignorance, Bigotry and Smear.”
Over time, voters have increasingly seen Collins as unwilling to counter those same menaces. The day after the election, she aired her frustrations with Mainers.
“Everybody ignores the fact that I voted to convict him in the second impeachment trial,” Collins told The New York Times. “What bigger break could there be? It is never enough. I want results and they want angry rhetoric.”
Or perhaps they wanted someone who voted with Trump less than 96% of the time.
As surprising as her 2020 triumph was, it may be that Collins took the wrong lessons from that victory. The margin of her win mattered less than her share of the vote dropping from 69% in 2014 to just 51%. Six years ago, she could point to her vote against repealing the Affordable Care Act. Though she had already voted for Brett Kavanaugh and three other justices who would strike down Roe, the decision itself had not yet been overturned. The pandemic limited her Democratic opponent’s ability to hold events and canvassing, while Collins attacked her and touted her leadership in helping businesses survive.
Not only were the political and economic environments far worse this year, but voters had changed. Many Biden-Collins voters were ready to vote for someone else. Demographic change mattered, too. Not only had more progressive, young voters entered the electorate and older, more conservative ones passed away, but close to 80,000 people, largely from blue states, moved to Maine between 2020 and 2025.
Finally, Jackson deserves credit as a resilient candidate who fit the brief. After Graham Platner dropped out of the race, Jackson was the option closest to Platner’s populist perspectives. And unlike Platner, Jackson had a long history of accomplishments, political leadership, organizing and was authentically working-class.
After some grumbling among other candidates’ supporters about how Jackson won the nomination, political attention quickly moved on. The Maine Democratic Party came together and worked with unions on voter outreach. A volunteer-led group started by Platner supporters, People Powered Maine, pitched in to support Jackson. Compared to Collins’ operation, Jackson’s campaign was more engaging, kinetic and adaptable.
Collins’ loss has long-term ramifications for Maine politics. Unless the state’s voters shift significantly, the only sort of Republican who can win statewide is someone who is not associated with the party’s MAGA base, but the party’s MAGA base will not nominate that type of candidate. With Sen. Angus King’s term up in four years, and the 82-year-old unlikely to run again, a Democrat has the advantage in winning his seat. And the odds that the seat’s next occupant is another Susan Collins — let alone another Margaret Chase Smith — are slim to none.
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