But the Democrats’ record isn’t all that much better than the Republicans’. It took some time for Democrats to begin trying to force John Conyers, the dean of the House, to resign. Franken, who was at first defiant, announced his resignation about two weeks after being accused, but didn’t resign for another month after that. Ruben Kihuen, a Democratic representative from Nevada, announced that he wouldn’t run for reelection after accusations of sexual harassment, but refused to step down. Then he considered reversing course, floating the idea of running for reelection after all. Democratic leaders stayed tight-lipped, and Kihuen ultimately concluded he won’t run again.

The strongest predictor for how long a politician holds out seems to be how much leverage his respective party has on him. That’s a trend that began during the 2016 campaign. By the time the Access Hollywood tape was released in October of that year, Trump had already defied most of the Republican Party and won; he had little incentive to listen to calls for him to exit the race. GOP officials similarly had little leverage on Moore, who most Republican leaders, both nationally and in state, thought would be a catastrophic candidate. Having won his party’s primary despite their opposition, and with the tardy backing of the president the GOP also couldn’t control, the only check on him was voters—and check him they did, electing Democrat Doug Jones instead.

Consider also Missouri, where Governor Eric Greitens, a Republican, stands accused of several crimes, including an affair with a woman whose testimony describes a sexual assault. Greitens was elected in large part by running against the establishment GOP, so fellow Republicans wasted little time in calling on him to resign. But because there’s little connection between the governor and his party, he has thumbed his nose at the calls for resignation. The state legislature is now moving toward impeachment, but that’s a long, tortuous process.

When a politician is more embedded in the party apparatus, he seems more likely to leave, and to do so quickly. Kihuen had little to lose as an individual. Franken, however, saw himself as a good Democratic soldier, and realized his presence was hurting the party’s pro-woman messaging. On the Republican side, House members were able to use ethics investigations as leverage to push Representatives Blake Farenthold, Pat Meehan, and Trent Franks toward the exits.

Schneiderman must have seen the writing on the wall. Not only did the accusations against him make his cheerleading for Weinstein-effect topplings look hypocritical, but his fellow New York Democrats would not hesitate to turn on him. Governor Andrew Cuomo has long had a snippy relationship with Schneiderman and quickly called for his departure. U.S. Senator Kirsten Gillibrand, who did the same, has been one of the most prominent advocates for harsh consequences for harassment, and helped to push Franken out. Schneiderman would have quickly been on an island far smaller and lonelier than Manhattan if he’d chosen to ignore their calls.

The notion that party leverage over an individual is perhaps the best predictor of the way they react to sexual-harassment or -abuse allegations is not wholly encouraging at a time when party leaders seem to be losing control, and are unusually powerless to stop candidates (including Trump) that they don’t favor. Less encouraging is the certainty that there will be new #MeToo data points to consider before long.