In the 2015 Alberta election, Sandra Jansen was one of just nine Progressive Conservative candidates elected and the only woman in that caucus. She subsequently withdrew from seeking the party leadership and crossed the floor to the arch-rival New Democrats after an inspiring conversation with Rachel Notley. The NDP’s newest backbencher received a standing ovation in the legislature when she read aloud some of the misogynistic messages directed at her and then premier Notley on social media.
Jansen opened a member’s statement as follows: “‘What a traitorous bitch.’ ‘You both are a disgrace to Alberta, lying bitches.’ ‘Now you have two blonde bimbos in that party that are clueless.’ ‘Another useless tit goes NDP.’ ‘Dead meat.’ ‘Sandra should stay in the kitchen where she belongs.’ ‘Fly with the crows [and] get shot.’ ‘Dumb broad. A good place for her to be is with the rest of the queers.’” Jansen was temporarily assigned a security detail to ensure her personal safety, but widespread criticism over the cost of the protection officer led her to cancel the arrangement after just a few days. Although she was appointed to cabinet a year later, the blowback from crossing the floor factored heavily in her decision not to seek re-election.
Partisans have a fierce reaction to parliamentarians who betray their cause and bring ignominy upon the group. Given the deep-rooted party loyalties in Canada, it is no surprise that many voters feel betrayed when their elected representative unilaterally switches parties between elections, and that rejected partisans pile on criticism to make a perceived traitor’s life miserable.
There is the practical side of changing jobs, such as lack of familiarity with the new organization’s customs and workplace culture and not knowing who people are. There is the added dimension of needing to build trust with suspicious colleagues, most of whom, until recently, were adversaries, both within a caucus and an electoral district association. There are also the opinions of constituents to manage and a need to court their vote. And there is sexism.
A political staffer who has negotiated some prominent switches summarizes the hazards: “Don’t underestimate how hard it’s going to be to change parties! Some people are going to be upset, some will hate you, some people will feel totally betrayed. Members of the party you are joining won’t necessarily trust you; you might feel lonely out of the gate. The media castigations of being a turncoat and selfish will follow.”
For some individuals, the consequences of joining a different parliamentary caucus can be severe, and their treatment as an outcast within their new party can be so disheartening that they may regret not completing their term as an independent. While every politician who turns their back on a political party encounters unique circumstances, common repercussions include disparagement, damaged relationships, and potential setbacks to their career.
Political parties can go to great lengths to make a deserter’s life miserable. A partisan who brushes aside party loyalty must brace for a cascade of media stories, partisan salvos, and efforts to frame the narrative, especially if they criticize the leader and the party on the way out. The broadsides signal to other parliamentarians that if a departure harms the group, it may lead to internecine conflict. Party switchers receive hateful mail and phone messages, are the target of scathing posts on social media, and are at the centre of harsh news coverage that creates “a big stew of venom,” as one party leaver put it to us.
The dressing down of an ex-partisan can be harsh. The rejected party tries to paint the defector as a weak link whose departure will make the team stronger. Spurned colleagues use ambition framing to chastise the switcher as an opportunist seeking more money, or who was upset at not being in the limelight, and depict them as a selfish turncoat whose move contributes to political cynicism. Switchers are dismissed as self-interested actors who, it is prophesized, will pay a price at the ballot box for turning their backs on local supporters who want retribution. Accusations of inappropriate behaviour are levelled, such as at a departed member who allegedly violated privacy rules by taking data about constituents who did not consent to their information being shared with a different political party.
In the legislature, erstwhile allies often heckle, boo, taunt, and ridicule their former associate. The character and judgment of the switcher can be impugned. They are dismissed as a substandard representative who is coping with personal problems or financial difficulties, who had poor attendance at caucus meetings, and who either rarely said anything in caucus or was belligerent. Other debates in the legislature involve discussion about how party switching fuels perceptions of politicians as self-serving.
Sometimes a tit-for-tat arises. In Manitoba, a PC member of the legislative assembly was expelled for levelling allegations of tyranny against then premier Gary Filmon. Party officials retorted that he was resentful at being passed over for cabinet and that executives on his riding association were threatening to quit over his substandard work. The premier added that the MLA was “erratic” and had “trouble getting along with people,” and that his removal would help with caucus unity.
Special cases generate their own condemnation, such as a married couple who crossed together from the New Brunswick PC caucus and were labelled political spies for allegedly leaking information to the governing Liberals. Hypocrisy flows when a former switcher expresses disgust at the integrity of a new switcher or when someone who previously denounced party switching goes on to do it themselves. Cries of insincerity also ensue when the spurned party releases emails and audio showing that a floor crosser had been effusing praise on senior officeholders in the party not long before admonishing it.
Juvenile antics reinforce the party’s team spirit in the face of rejection, such as mailing party propaganda to their former colleague’s home or a staffer sending flowers to another party’s staffer as a satirical thank you for taking a troublemaker off their hands. Pettiness and ostracization can fester: decades after the Co-operative Commonwealth Federation’s final leader crossed the floor from the NDP to the Liberal Party, his portrait was absent from a montage of the party’s leaders in the House of Commons. Occasionally, the aggrieved party takes aggressive action. In 2013, the NDP launched robocalls and advertising to pressure their former colleague, who had joined the Bloc Québécois, to resign from his seat and seek re-election with his new party in a by-election.
In another case, upon the election of Pierre Poilievre as leader in 2022, a Conservative member of Parliament who left to sit as an independent was downcast when party members in his riding received a text message from his former party accusing him of abandoning the team and urging constituents to phone his office to demand his resignation. The MP alleged intimidation, decried how party discipline breeds cynicism in politics, and eventually announced that he would not seek re-election.
Sexism, as in the case of Jansen, can erupt when party loyalty is shattered. Women politicians are subject to harsher media coverage generally, including misogynistic innuendos and direct assaults on their fidelity that exploit societal views on sexuality. For example, Le Devoir reported that an unnamed source alleged that a member of the national assembly who switched parties was so uncontrollable that her husband had to be persuaded to get her to calm down and work as part of a team. In particular, the misogyny that Jansen encountered online echoed the mass media vitriol that Belinda Stronach endured in 2005.
The frames questioning Stronach’s integrity and credibility, along with punditry about how her move would stoke cynicism about politics, were by far the most intense of any of the cases we examined. Conservatives were fed message lines that she had been a no-show at parliamentary committee meetings and that she was trying to get out of paying her leadership campaign debt. Pundits discussed how she had left her romantic partner, Peter MacKay, the Conservatives’ deputy leader, who had sympathized in private yet was loyal to the leader in public. After the news broke, MacKay allegedly compared her to a disloyal dog. Male callers to talk-radio shows labelled her a “political harlot” and the “Benedict Arnold of Canadian politics,” while a prominent female columnist tagged her as a “treacherous wench” and a “political whore.” A Journal de Montréal cartoon depicted Stronach as a sex worker. She received death threats, and security guards were assigned to her children at school.
Some male politicians levelled brutal insults. “She sort of defined herself as something of a dipstick, an attractive one, but still a dipstick, with what she’s done here today. She is, at the end of the day, going to paint herself as something of a joke,” said one. “Some people prostitute themselves for different costs or different prices. She sold out for a cabinet position,” said another. “What it is to me is a little rich girl who is basically whoring herself out to the Liberals,” added a third. Then prime minister Stephen Harper chided, “I’ve never really noticed complexity to be Belinda’s strong point.”
During her re-election campaign, Stronach rued the derogatory comments and the celebrity sensationalism of breaking up with MacKay, not just with a party. She was re-elected as a Liberal with an impressive increase in share of vote; however, Conservatives formed the government, and she did not re-offer.
Lela Evans, the boomerang partisan in Labrador, sidestepped party backlash by visiting the NDP leader’s home to inform him of her departure. At a news conference to announce her return, she expressed admiration for him while standing next to the PC leader, stating that her decision was motivated solely by a desire to better advocate for constituents facing an indifferent Liberal government. On X, comments reacting to news stories about Evans rejoining the PC caucus levelled the usual allegations—an opportunist, unscrupulous, a waffler, a phony—but we did not observe anything overtly sexist or homophobic. In any case, when male floor crossers face verbal harassment, their gender is not the focus of the conversation.
The public criticism results in reputational harm that extends to personal relationships. When a parliamentarian shuns one party for another, they can become a persona non grata within much of their established network. The partisans they abandon can be deeply wounded. Former colleagues feel that a switcher is egotistical and arrogant, and some of them leave private messages to express sadness, incomprehension, and anger. Relationships with many people a switcher respects, including long-time friends and even family members, are permanently altered, if not destroyed.
In the capital city, some of a switcher’s former partisan allies refuse to speak with them. Some pretend not to see them and turn their backs or cross the street to avoid them; their spouse might get snubbed in social situations. Even a two-stepper whose move does not attract fanfare feels the sting, we were told: “It’s such a traumatic event professionally. There’s a lot of pain and suffering that goes with it on a personal level, because these are friends you’ve had for years. Colleagues you’ve worked with. You’re going to lose those. And you will find also at the constituency level, some people will be very angry at you. You have to be prepared for that.”
In their electoral district, it can be hard on a switcher to be alienated from local partisans who delivered flyers for them, who put away chairs at the end of an event, and who pounded in lawn signs. A switcher can feel guilt for abandoning supporters and for not giving members of their electoral district association the courtesy of a heads-up to blunt the surprise. Friendships are soured, even severed, including ones that predate the switcher’s entry into political life. We were told about a former campaign worker who spat on a party switcher at a public event and threatened to punch him, and about how donors feel duped and have no recourse to obtain a refund.
On the receiving side, rank-and-file partisans are dubious that an ex-partisan can be trusted to change loyalties and values. They are irked that they will be expected to support a rival they worked against in the previous campaign and can scold the leader for accepting a former opponent. Some party loyalists find it difficult to support a turncoat who will potentially wrest the nomination away from a committed party member. From the capital city, party operatives can work the phones to shore up the hurt feelings of local partisans who campaigned against the switcher.
Constituents have polarized reactions to news that their representative has traded one party hat for another. Some of them approve or are ambivalent, while enraged partisans let loose on talk-radio shows where they disparage the “fence-jumper” as a “little quisling guttersnipe,” and worse. A party switcher told us about attending social gatherings where constituents were overheard whispering their displeasure about the decision. Another recalled that his mother-in-law felt the wrath of parishioners at her church and that his lawn signs were vandalized with swastikas. Lisa Raitt, the Conservative who unseated two-stepper Garth Turner, got an earful from voters who felt he disrespected their vote.
A Wildrose floor crosser summarizes the views that he fielded from the public: “I had people come into my office and tear a strip off me. As a public servant it was my job to listen to them and to hear what they had to say. Some of it wasn’t pleasant. And I had other ones come in and calling me and texting me and saying, ‘You did the right thing. I understand why you did it.’ So, depending on the mindset of the people, some of them felt betrayed.” In this context, frustrated constituents can extend well beyond the parliamentarian’s electoral boundaries to constitute people whom they stand for or share characteristics with. When Elenore Sturko defected to the BC Conservatives, she sparked bewilderment in the LGBTQ2+ community nationwide, given her advocacy for LGBTQ2+ rights, past criticism of the party’s social conservatism, and the perceived hypocrisy of her move.
Several elections later, people remain angry at a party switcher, some of whom refuse to talk to the betrayer. When the politician’s parliamentary career is over, it can be difficult to find work because they are tainted. Long after exiting politics, party leavers can field apologies from former caucus colleagues who concede that at the time they were unable to talk or socialize with them. Years later, switchers can caution others against changing parties because of the personal hardships and broken friendships. As well, a switcher can look back on the hypocrisy of some of their fiercest critics who themselves went on to change parties.
A party switcher may be disappointed that the move does not translate into fulfilling their career ambitions. Apart from star recruits, the special treatment that they envision drains away when they are installed in the back benches and must navigate getting nominated to stand for re-election, or if they anticipated that their new party would form government but never does. Then there are the electoral repercussions. In a riding where a newly joined party is dormant, a party switcher needs to assemble a campaign team, fundraise, and identify supporters. If the electoral district association is active, the switcher will need to get them onside. Either way, challenging interactions with voters lie ahead, and securing re-election can be tough.
Canadian MPs who switch political parties have historically paid an electoral price of approximately 5 percent, though in recent years, the vote penalty has bordered on 20 percent. Members of Parliament who are pushed out of their party lose the most votes, followed by those who switch for electoral reasons, and, least of all, those who leave an opposition party to take a government appointment.
Our analysis of federal and provincial departures from 1980 to 2021 finds that a majority of parliamentarians who left their party did not survive into the next assembly. During that time frame, two-thirds of party leavers went on to contest the next general election, which is lower than the four-fifths of all incumbents who typically do so. Of the parliamentarians who sought re-election under a different party banner, two-thirds failed, and of the former partisans who ran as independents, nearly three quarters failed. In contrast, the winning percentage among all incumbents in Canadian federal elections is 77 percent, suggesting that being a team player is a good re-election strategy.
A former floor crosser cautions, “It’s not something I would wish upon anyone. . . . There’s this public perception that if you do it automatically, you’re rewarded with influence and power. And in this case, it was anything but. . . . [Yet] I’ll be accused of being a floor crosser who is greedy and doing it for power and all of these things and there is none of that. I’m sure that there are some who have their individual agreements that are worked out. But that certainly was not my experience. Make sure that you’re prepared for this to be the last term that you serve.”
At the same time, there are significant benefits of deserting a party or defecting to an opponent. For some, leaving a caucus is a superb decision that leads to fruitful relationships and realizes their career ambitions. Even if the political payoff turns out to be disappointing—such as a backbencher with dashed hopes of being appointed to cabinet or a floor crosser losing a nomination race or being defeated in the next general election—for many switchers, it was the right move to escape the unhappiness of being in a group that became a poor fit.
The welcoming party and its leader arguably have the most to gain from receiving a switcher and picking up a seat from an opponent. The ability to control admission to a political club means they can attempt to poach star performers from the other side, deliberate the circumstances and implications of admitting a former adversary, and reject advances from troublemakers. Prominent switches can influence the perceived credibility and election prospects of a party and its leader, particularly if a high-profile move generates momentum for other partisans to switch too. The welcoming party can roll out the red carpet at a media announcement where the leader positions the switch as a triumph for a party on the upswing and as evidence of problems with the rejected leader.
Some party switchers go on to have a long parliamentary career and forge an influential political legacy. For them, there is no looking back.
Adapted and excerpted, with permission, from No I in Team: Party Loyalty in Canadian Politics by Alex Marland, Jared J. Wesley, and Mireille Lalancette, published by the University of Toronto Press, 2025.
Jared J. Wesley is an associate dean of graduate studies, a professor of political science, and member of the Black Faculty Collective at the University of Alberta.
Mireille Lalancette is a professor of political communication at Université du Québec à Trois-Rivières.
