Moderate Democrats Scramble to Block a Socialist From Winning in Wisconsin

Tuesday’s contest to become Wisconsin’s Democratic nominee for Governor has unexpectedly become one of the most chaotic stories of the 2026 cycle.

First, the popular incumbent Governor said he wouldn’t seek a third term. His Lieutenant Governor jumped in the race. So did his former Lieutenant Governor. Both have since dropped out, one felled by financial mismanagement in her campaign and one allegedly dispatched by a MeToo-styled scandal. 

The chaotic scramble is now down to two unlikely candidates: Francesca Hong and David Crowley. She is a democratic socialist who has rocketed in the polls despite concerns about her viability in November (and her position on, of all things, Thanksgiving). He is a steady-as-she-goes county bureaucrat who suspended his campaign and booked a vacation to Jamaica—before canceling the trip and re-joining the race 10 days later, this time with the backing of the outgoing Governor.

“The one thing that I've learned is to buy travel insurance,” Crowley tells me between campaign stops. The no-nonsense, disciplined executive of Wisconsin’s largest county is now the fledgling hope of national Democrats, who fear Hong, a far-left state assembly member, is doomed to deliver to Republicans the corner office in one of the few remaining battleground states. In fact, the biggest spender in the race thus far is an effort linked to the Republican Governors Association—to boost Hong.

“You can't win this primary on ideology alone,” Crowley says. “You have to be able to build a winning coalition to make sure that we can get over the hump come November and defeat the Republicans.”

But it’s going to be a tough lift. Tom Tiffany, a three-term congressman and the presumptive Republican nominee, raised more than $15 million, thanks in no small part to a $10 million transfer from the state GOP. By contrast, the Democrats’ top fundraiser, former Lieutenant Governor Mandela Barnes, picked up about $1.4 million before he was forced to the sidelines. 

“While democracy can be messy, can be chaotic—just like this primary is—we still have one ultimate goal, which is to make sure that we defeat Tom Tiffany in November,” Crowley says. 

What the Polls Say

Polling this cycle once again is proving as reliable as a Ouija board. Just ask Wisconsin’s neighbor Michigan, which last week saw what seemed like a slam-dunk Democratic contest for Senate turn into a squeaker. 

Wisconsin is similarly a hinky place that can be hard to poll, but the most recent ones show Democrats have a shot at holding the Governor’s gig.

Hong, a self-described socialist, has ignited the interest of many of the state’s Democrats, while terrifying others who fear she’s unelectable. She’s recently made national news for walking back past social media posts that advocated abolishing the police and canceling Thanksgiving for "celebrating colonialism." ("I don't want to cancel it," she insisted last week. "I actually love it.")

Crowley is campaigning like the underdog that he is, and hoping that the recent tighter-than-expected outcome in Michigan is a sign that the race in Wisconsin isn’t what it seems. 

One factor in his favor: the polls show the box with the biggest share of the Democratic vote in Wisconsin is the one for undecided voters. Heading into the final push, about half of Democrats hadn’t made up their minds. And the race’s constant churn—frontrunners dropping out, Crowley in then out, then back in with endorsements galore—has left the field decidedly unsettled.

Crowley suggests the messiness of the primary is because the President is messing with Democrats’ heads. “The Democratic Party, we have been reacting and responding so much to Donald Trump, that he is defining us for us, and that we've been playing defense for so long that we've forgotten what it means to be on the offense,” Crowley tells me.  

But it’s not like he’s trying to counter Trumpism—or Hong—with a brash form of progressive fire. No, Crowley is casting himself as the kind of responsible pragmatist that fits the Upper Midwest ethos.

A.I. Data Center Backlash

Take the open question of data centers. Wisconsin’s cooler climate and hardened infrastructure make it an attractive location for the A.I. hubs. But it’s a clunker with the public, especially among Democrats. Marquette Law School’s polling has been instructive for candidates in the region. Among Wisconsin Democrats, the notion that the costs outweigh the benefits of data centers has grown from 56% in October of last year to 88% last month. Among all voters in Wisconsin, that shift has been from 55% to 76%. 

Hong, recognizing the potency of the issue, has called for a statewide moratorium on data centers, branding her policy "Control-Alt-Delete.” That position may be the key to her surprising strength heading into Election Day. 

Crowley’s position, meanwhile, is less restrictive but still skeptical.

“All data centers are not all created equal,” Crowley says. “Our job is to make sure that these data centers are paying their way, that they're paying for the full energy costs, that they're paying for the infrastructure and grid upgrades. Heck, I think that they should be subsidizing our energy users across the entire state.”

It’s that careful pivot to prairie populism that has some Democrats—especially the moderates and centrists who are still raw after Michigan—hoping Crowley might claw his way to the nomination. 

“While everybody's afraid of these data centers extracting our precious resources away, how about we find ways to extract as much as possible from these data centers to help our local units of government, to help out our school districts, to boost entrepreneurs and small businesses and legacy industries, as well as our farmers, to let them know how this can help grow our economy moving forward?” Crowley asks. “But we can't have that conversation until those guardwheels are in place, and we as a state are in a mindset that we feel that we are protected.”

But a sense of safety is hard to come by in a race this unstable. After all, on July 8, when he ended his campaign, Crowley did so because he didn’t think he had a shot at the nomination. Over the next 10 days, constant calls and dangled promises from frantic Democrats convinced him a return to the campaign made sense. “I'll be honest with you, I feel like making the decision to get out of this race was just as difficult to get back in,” he tells me.