Everyone Hates Democrats
Progressives and moderates accuse each other of being unable to appeal to working-class voters — and maybe they’re both right.
The Democratic Party may have recaptured the White House, but its crisis remains as deep as ever. Though Joe Biden beat Donald Trump by 7 million popular votes, his Electoral College victory came down to 42,000 ballots in Arizona, Georgia, and Wisconsin. Democrats barely won the Senate, lost seats in the House, and were stonewalled at the state level — of the twelve legislative chambers Democrats had targeted there, they won zero.
Far from celebrating a landslide victory, with hopes of a national realignment on the way, Democrats found themselves once more engaged in a tense debate about the future of a party that seems incapable of decisively winning control of all branches of government.
On this question, the progressive and centrist wings of the party are more divided than ever. Conservative Blue Dog Democrats like Abigail Spanberger blame radical rhetoric for the party’s poor results in Congress: “we need to not ever use the words ‘socialist’ or ‘socialism’ ever again. Because while people think it doesn’t matter, it does matter. And we lost good members because of it.”
In response, our left-wing leaders like Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez contend that the Democrats will fail to mobilize their most enthusiastic voters if big-ticket progressive ideas get dropped from the agenda. They argue that the party’s biggest liability was its unimaginative, uninspiring, and thoroughly orthodox economic conservatism. Joe Biden’s promise that “nothing will fundamentally change” might have won over some moderates disgusted with Trump, but it failed to inspire voters to elect a Democratic majority.
Meanwhile, despite losing a presidential reelection bid, many Republican leaders seem unconcerned with the results. After all, Trump managed to improve on his 2016 performance in nearly every demographic group, save college-educated voters and white men. Biden, however, failed to reverse the Democrats’ slow bleeding of working-class voters of all races, so much so that Republican senator Marco Rubio boasts that the GOP is now the party of the “multiracial working class.”
Democrats know they are in trouble, and most of them recognize the problem: their base is too narrow. It is too geographically metropolitan, too educated, and, increasingly, too wealthy.
What Democrats most need, then, is a way to build a larger working-class coalition. And this, too, is the crux of the debate between progressive insurgents and establishment politicians: each wing of the party accuses the other of being unable to win working-class voters.
Maybe they’re both right.
“Left but not woke” was how commentator David Frum once described Bernie Sanders. In his 2016 bid for the Democratic nomination, Sanders’s economic platform was decidedly ambitious and his rhetoric indisputably populist. In an era of small-government austerity and technocratic solutionism, Bernie often sounded like a New Deal dinosaur, blissfully unaware that history had ended in the 1990s, or that Democrats had become a party of right-thinking college graduates rather than blue-collar workers. He offered a worker-centered economic agenda, without the alienating cultural aesthetic that dominates liberal media and the universities.
No one can deny Sanders’s influence on the future of the US left. His platform has upended the policy consensus on Capitol Hill, and his talking points are now regularly imitated by down-ballot candidates across the country.
Yet many of his most outspoken disciples fail to embody his unique appeal. Instead of the single-minded focus on working-class issues, they often embrace the liberal culture war while peppering in some of Bernie’s popular programs. So, if Bernie is the progressive exception, then what is the rule?
Consider Elizabeth Warren’s campaign, which even the ultraliberal magazine the Atlantic chided for its “Excessive Wokeness.” Warren combined a popular economic agenda with an often awkward attempt at courting Teen Vogue–reading radicals. This approach was admired among activists, media commentators, and some professional-class voters, but almost no one else — especially not the oppressed groups she aimed to attract. Warren came in fourth among black voters in her home state.
Warren is far from unique, though, and the brand of politics she championed is certainly not dead — in deep blue districts, it might even be the norm. The members of the Squad — long thought to be the successors to the Sanders mantle — have welded Bernie’s economic agenda to activist demands like “defund the police” and political appeals that, whatever their merits, seem best at attracting the hyperliberal and highly literate.
Progressives and socialists are now pairing ambitious and urgently necessary proposals like Medicare for All with wildly unpopular and sometimes counterproductive policy positions. Further, progressives have embraced a racialized worldview that reduces whole populations to their skin color. “Woke” ideology has prevented many on the Left from grasping the possibility that a Mexican American may care more about health care than immigration, that a woman might be more motivated by economic promises than electing a first female president, or that Trump might be able to improve his vote share among working-class black voters.
Even the political style of the Left seems designed to turn away potential new recruits. Far from signaling a commitment to vital social causes, being “woke” has become synonymous with an embrace of niche cultural attitudes found only in highly educated urban districts and among Twitter users — 80 percent of whom are affluent millennials. The Sanders campaign attempted a break with the new online consensus when it rejected the fringe term “Latinx” in its historically successful efforts to court Latino voters. And while Sanders failed to win over infrequent, rural, and small-town voters, he recognized how important it was to craft a majoritarian message that could appeal to them.
It’s unlikely that younger progressive leaders will do the same. Standout representatives like Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Ayanna Pressley, and Rashida Tlaib sit in districts teeming with young, liberal voters (each seat boasts a Democratic advantage of at least 29 percentage points). For urban progressive insurgents — who are cash poor and enthusiasm rich — the incentives are clear: “woke” messaging helps mobilize an activist volunteer base that allows these candidates to overcome their financial weaknesses vis-à-vis established incumbents, and since these districts are so uniformly Democratic, they need not worry about appealing to a broader group in a general election. But even as these progressives have marooned themselves on isolated blue urban islands, they insist more than ever on defining the terms of national debate. And thanks to their unusually strong access to media, they’ve been quite successful at this.
The political problem here is not the moral motivation behind the “Great Awokening” — there is no doubt that progressive Democrats have the best of intentions. The problem is the way in which that moral conviction is expressed, and by whom. Party insurgents today reflect the sensibilities and interests of a constituency that looks and sounds nothing like the kinds of voters the Left desperately needs to win.
After all, professional-class progressives only make up about 13 percent of the electorate, and they almost never vote for anyone other than Democrats. Alternatively, as Peter Hall and Georgina Evans show, about 22 percent of voters dislike cosmopolitan and increasingly out-of-touch liberal cultural appeals but believe in a progressive economic agenda — and these voters are largely working class. Winning the loyalty of the majority of working people in this country will require breaking out of the existing liberal fortresses and appealing to workers across our massive continental democracy. But pairing a popular economic program with alienating rhetoric, chic activist demands, and identity-based group appeals only weakens the possibility of doing so.