Twenty years ago, I was inside the Speaker of the House’s communications operation when the political ground shifted beneath us.
On November 7, 2006, Republicans lost control of the House, giving up 31 seats. Democrats also took control of the Senate, with two independents caucusing with them. After 12 years of Republican leadership in the House, the majority was gone.
I was serving as Deputy Communications Director for the Speaker. I was also a young mother with a one-year-old at home and knew another child was likely in my future. Suddenly, I had a very practical question to answer: What was I going to do next?
I could have taken the easier path into the private sector. Instead, I chose a harder one. I went on to serve as a spokesperson for the Republican National Committee, helping lead the party’s communications operation at a moment when Republicans were trying to understand what had happened and where to go next.
I didn’t know it then, but that decision would shape the next two decades of my career.
Twenty years later, I’m watching another political earthquake unfold. The circumstances are different, but the lessons from 2006 are worth revisiting.
Political parties are remarkably good at explaining away losses. They’re less good at listening to what those losses are telling them.
In 2006, George W. Bush was deeply unpopular. The war in Iraq had become a defining issue, public confidence in the administration was eroding and voters were frustrated with a government that seemed disconnected from their concerns. The election was a referendum on the president and his party. Republicans paid the price.
What happened next is what I remember.
The day after the election, Bush announced that Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld was leaving the administration. He congratulated Nancy Pelosi and the incoming Democratic leadership and spoke about working together.
Bush hadn’t changed his political philosophy overnight. But he understood that voters had delivered a message and that governing required responding to it. He had two years left in office and a Democratic Congress to work with. The political landscape had changed, and he acknowledged it.
That distinction matters today.
The 2026 midterms have delivered a sweeping rebuke to Republicans. Democrats have taken control of both chambers. Voters have expressed deep frustration with the economy, the cost of living and the direction and conduct of government.
There are obvious parallels to 2006: an unpopular president, a governing party struggling to connect with voters and an electorate using the midterms to register its dissatisfaction.
But there is a difference in how the presidency itself has operated. Bush understood the institutional nature of the office and the need to work with people who disagreed with him. Donald Trump’s political identity is far more closely tied to his personal preferences, grievances and public battles. His party has often found itself defending the president rather than defining its own priorities.
I’ve never been a Donald Trump supporter. But my interest here isn’t partisan. After decades in political communications, I’ve seen what happens when organizations become so consumed with defending their leadership that they stop hearing what the public is telling them.
You can spend millions on advertising, produce endless talking points and dominate the news cycle. None of it matters if your message doesn’t reflect what people are actually experiencing.
People know what groceries cost. They know what they’re paying for housing and healthcare. They know whether they feel better off than they did two years ago. When those experiences don’t match what they’re hearing from elected officials, credibility disappears.
And when voters deliver a result like this, doubling down, blaming the media or insisting they simply misunderstood the message is a mistake. Leaders need to take an honest look at their decisions, their priorities and their relationship with the people they represent. That takes humility, something political organizations can lose after years of winning or simply fighting to stay in power.
Democrats should take note, too.
Winning an election doesn’t mean voters have given you permission to do whatever you want. They may have rejected the party in power without embracing the alternative. Democrats now have an opportunity to show that government can function, that disagreement doesn’t have to become dysfunction and that leadership can be about more than the daily political spectacle.
If they spend the next two years focused on political retribution and scoring points against the president, they’ll miss the same lesson Republicans missed: voters expect something from the people they put in charge.
Twenty years of experience have given me a different perspective on all of this. I’ve worked in campaigns, Congress, the executive branch and the private sector. I’ve watched political organizations rise, struggle and reinvent themselves. I’ve also learned that the best leaders aren’t the ones who always have an answer. They’re the ones who recognize when they need to ask different questions.
And there’s a personal reason I find myself thinking about 2006.
That one-year-old baby I was thinking about when I made my career decision is now a young adult. He was ten when Donald Trump first ran for president. For most of the years he’s been old enough to follow politics, Trump has been a constant presence in American political life, either as a candidate or as president.
Think about what that means for an entire generation. They’ve grown up with constant campaigning, extraordinary political division and a level of conflict that has become almost routine.
I hope they get to see something different.
I hope the next generation gets to witness leaders who can disagree without treating one another as enemies, who understand that public service is bigger than personal loyalty and who can admit when something isn’t working. They deserve to see a different kind of politics. They deserve the perspective that comes from knowing our political system can evolve and that the people leading it can change, too.
I don’t know what comes next. But I see an opportunity for a new chapter, for new voices and for a different kind of leadership.
In 2006, I watched a political party lose its footing and had to figure out what came next for myself. Twenty years later, I recognize the moment again, only this time with a much longer view of what happens when political organizations fail to listen.
No party owns the electorate. No leader is bigger than the institution. And no amount of communications can permanently overcome a failure to listen.
Authentically speaking, sometimes the most important message is the one you have to stop talking long enough to hear.
This is perfect.
Love this piece. Perfect message in this moment.