Collins v. The Left: Maine Race Tests GOP’s Last Stand in New England

Paul Riverbank, 2/11/2026Susan Collins, Maine’s independent-minded senator, faces her toughest campaign yet as both parties target her seat, making this race a fulcrum for Senate control amid shifting state—and national—political tides.

It’s curious to reflect on Collins—who has become something of a fixture in American politics—facing the looming uncertainty of another campaign. She’s stood on this ground before, but few contests look quite as labyrinthine as the one ahead. Control of the chamber could hinge on Maine, that much is clear.

Collins, now in her early seventies, has weathered half a dozen cycles and amassed a reputation for charting her own course. But the political elements swirling this year are unpredictable. Not long ago, she found herself in the thick of the longest government shutdown in U.S. history. Budget standoffs and the Senate’s usual brinkmanship set the tone. Collins, who never claimed to be a firebrand, still ended up in Trump’s crosshairs: after she voted to curb the then-president’s authority on Venezuela, her office was hit with a furious phone call and a raft of public criticisms. Trump, as ever, pulled no punches—Collins, he claimed, “should never be elected to office again.”

Yet, for all the animosity, these two have occasionally landed on the same page. Appropriations work remains a gritty, unglamorous business, but Collins, as committee chair, managed to usher through nearly a dozen funding bills. Enough for the president to sign them into law, and even nod her way: “Doing good,” he remarked—a rare, if fleeting, consensus.

Immigration, though, has become a flashpoint inside Maine’s borders. The latest federal crackdown saw hundreds detained, some with little or no criminal record. Collins intervened—not brashly, but through a now-public conversation with Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem, slowing the influx of agents. “Collins has taken credit for stopping the surge of federal agents in Maine,” reads the official record. But foes describe these gestures as feeble. Governor Janet Mills, never shy about crossing the aisle, accused Collins of lacking “courage” after her vote to keep funding DHS. Then there’s Graham Platner—oyster farmer, economic populist, and now, Democratic contender—who didn’t just criticize DHS, but wants it scrapped altogether.

Platner’s campaign, for all its grass-roots energy, hasn’t come without headaches. Political neophytes, it seems, stumble in high-wattage races. Platner has spent days fielding questions about old internet posts and even covered tattoos after criticism about one that resembled a hate symbol.

The money pouring into the state is almost dizzying to track. Platner’s recent haul—nearly $4.6 million—has outstripped his rivals. Mills, always a robust fundraiser, clocked in with $2.7 million. Collins, who hadn’t even begun her formal campaign in earnest, sits on an $8 million war chest. Both parties are gambling big. The Senate Majority PAC invested $24 million right out of the gate, with their Republican counterparts pledging nearly $37 million. Even the Super Bowl isn’t off-limits—a spot featuring a Maine lobsterman ran coast-to-coast, paid for by One Nation.

If the political map of Maine was once reliably purple, it’s been leaving red behind. Registered Democrats now outnumber independents and Republicans—a slow shift, but one with real impact. Still, Collins has outlasted flashier opponents. Sara Gideon’s $69 million bid in 2020 didn’t suffice; Collins pulled ahead by eight points. “It’s never been easy for Susan. She’s always had a battle, being the only Republican left in New England,” said Montana’s Steve Daines, one of her closest allies in the Senate.

To national strategists peering from afar, this race is about arithmetic: four pickups could hand Democrats the Senate. Locally, it feels knottier—a struggle not just of resources and soundbites but of identity, too. As one Democratic strategist put it, “Collins has won because she crafted an ‘independent’ image. It was a mirage. Whenever she could have meaningfully stood against Trump, she folded.”

Collins herself knows what she’s facing, as much a test of her own legacy as of party fortunes. “Can I get my constituents, who I’ve worked so hard for, to focus on my record and my accomplishments for them?” she wonders aloud. “The Democrats are trying very hard to make this a referendum on Donald Trump.”

Political tides are rarely still for long. While candidates swap slogans and strategists tally ad buys, voters in Maine watch, weighing not just personalities but a shifting sense of what their state—and the country—requires. In Collins’ sixth run, every press conference and handshake carries heightened weight. Whatever happens this time, there’s little question: Maine, as ever, will make its own kind of history.

On an overcast morning in Bangor, Susan Collins tugged on a new pair of running shoes—there’s always another campaign, always another stretch of pavement to cover. This time, the cameras zoomed in as she laced up, delivering one of those not-quite-ritual declarations: “This is perfect for 2026. Because I’m running.” The message, unmistakable, set the stage for a contest that could shape the trajectory of both Maine and the Senate at large.It’s curious to reflect on Collins—who has become something of a fixture in American politics—facing the looming uncertainty of another campaign. She’s stood on this ground before, but few contests look quite as labyrinthine as the one ahead. Control of the chamber could hinge on Maine, that much is clear.Collins, now in her early seventies, has weathered half a dozen cycles and amassed a reputation for charting her own course. But the political elements swirling this year are unpredictable. Not long ago, she found herself in the thick of the longest government shutdown in U.S. history. Budget standoffs and the Senate’s usual brinkmanship set the tone. Collins, who never claimed to be a firebrand, still ended up in Trump’s crosshairs: after she voted to curb the then-president’s authority on Venezuela, her office was hit with a furious phone call and a raft of public criticisms. Trump, as ever, pulled no punches—Collins, he claimed, “should never be elected to office again.”Yet, for all the animosity, these two have occasionally landed on the same page. Appropriations work remains a gritty, unglamorous business, but Collins, as committee chair, managed to usher through nearly a dozen funding bills. Enough for the president to sign them into law, and even nod her way: “Doing good,” he remarked—a rare, if fleeting, consensus.Immigration, though, has become a flashpoint inside Maine’s borders. The latest federal crackdown saw hundreds detained, some with little or no criminal record. Collins intervened—not brashly, but through a now-public conversation with Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem, slowing the influx of agents. “Collins has taken credit for stopping the surge of federal agents in Maine,” reads the official record. But foes describe these gestures as feeble. Governor Janet Mills, never shy about crossing the aisle, accused Collins of lacking “courage” after her vote to keep funding DHS. Then there’s Graham Platner—oyster farmer, economic populist, and now, Democratic contender—who didn’t just criticize DHS, but wants it scrapped altogether.Platner’s campaign, for all its grass-roots energy, hasn’t come without headaches. Political neophytes, it seems, stumble in high-wattage races. Platner has spent days fielding questions about old internet posts and even covered tattoos after criticism about one that resembled a hate symbol.The money pouring into the state is almost dizzying to track. Platner’s recent haul—nearly $4.6 million—has outstripped his rivals. Mills, always a robust fundraiser, clocked in with $2.7 million. Collins, who hadn’t even begun her formal campaign in earnest, sits on an $8 million war chest. Both parties are gambling big. The Senate Majority PAC invested $24 million right out of the gate, with their Republican counterparts pledging nearly $37 million. Even the Super Bowl isn’t off-limits—a spot featuring a Maine lobsterman ran coast-to-coast, paid for by One Nation.If the political map of Maine was once reliably purple, it’s been leaving red behind. Registered Democrats now outnumber independents and Republicans—a slow shift, but one with real impact. Still, Collins has outlasted flashier opponents. Sara Gideon’s $69 million bid in 2020 didn’t suffice; Collins pulled ahead by eight points. “It’s never been easy for Susan. She’s always had a battle, being the only Republican left in New England,” said Montana’s Steve Daines, one of her closest allies in the Senate.To national strategists peering from afar, this race is about arithmetic: four pickups could hand Democrats the Senate. Locally, it feels knottier—a struggle not just of resources and soundbites but of identity, too. As one Democratic strategist put it, “Collins has won because she crafted an ‘independent’ image. It was a mirage. Whenever she could have meaningfully stood against Trump, she folded.”Collins herself knows what she’s facing, as much a test of her own legacy as of party fortunes. “Can I get my constituents, who I’ve worked so hard for, to focus on my record and my accomplishments for them?” she wonders aloud. “The Democrats are trying very hard to make this a referendum on Donald Trump.”Political tides are rarely still for long. While candidates swap slogans and strategists tally ad buys, voters in Maine watch, weighing not just personalities but a shifting sense of what their state—and the country—requires. In Collins’ sixth run, every press conference and handshake carries heightened weight. Whatever happens this time, there’s little question: Maine, as ever, will make its own kind of history.