Category Archives: revitalizing the left

moving to the center is a metaphor, and maybe not a good one

There is a huge debate underway about whether Democrats should move toward the center of the political spectrum or to the left. As usual, many people who want the party to land at their preferred point on the spectrum also argue that this would be the best electoral strategy, although those are separate issues.

Some observers note that shifting one’s ideological placement is a poor tactic because, as G. Eliot Morris told Paul Krugman, “voters have very poor understanding of what candidates actually stand for at the issue-position level. They also have a very poor understanding of what these ideological labels: moderate, progressive, really even mean.” He also says, “the vast majority of the American public is not consuming the type of information that you would need to know, first off, what issue positions politicians hold and second, what the ideological labeling, the orientation of those, what those issue positions are.”

For some progressive commentators, this kind of evidence counts against moving to the center. A centrist platform won’t help win elections if voters are unaware of candidates’ positions. But the same evidence would also argue against moving to the left. If we assume that people don’t know enough to evaluate policies, and a candidate can equally well propose anything–well, that is a cynical theory and a depressing one if it’s true.

I take a different view. I observe that voters are heterogeneous. They care about various issues, believe various kinds of information that they derive from various sources, identify with various social groups, feel various ways about each major institution (experiencing emotions that range from trust and respect via obliviousness to contempt or fear), vote–or don’t vote–for various reasons, and consider various combinations of policies, personal characteristics, demographic markers, and perceived performance when they assess candidates.

One interpretation is that people are naive or “innocent” about ideology (Kinder & Kalmoe 2017). They have, as Morris says, “a very poor understanding” of the ideological spectrum. I would counter that the ideological spectrum is just one way of organizing beliefs, and probably a poor one. We shouldn’t allow the seating arrangements of the French National Assembly in 1793 (when the Jacobins sat to the left and gave that word its political significance) to mesmerize us. People who organize their political thoughts in other ways may have insights.

Consider John, a major character in Farah Stockman’s nonfiction book American Made: What Happens to People When Work Disappears. John is a union activist who comes from a long family tradition of militant unionism, originally in Kentucky. He knows a great deal about trade policy. Some of his most important sources of news are union publications. There is a Confederate flag in his basement, which has meanings that he may not want to acknowledge but that also stands, in his own mind, for Appalachian workers against elites. Most deeply, he divides the world between workers and managers. He hates talk of “white privilege” because he feels oppressed as a worker. He wants the union to fight the company, and he voted for Trump in 2016. His wife is more favorable to management. On that basis, he describes her as a “liberal.” He is surprised when a Republican politician doesn’t seem to favor US workers over managers, as he would expect.

I disagree with John in many respects, including the way we use words like “liberal.” Still, I could learn a lot from him about trade policy and industrial issues. He is not “innocent” of ideology. (If that flag is anything, it isn’t innocent.) Not is he ignorant or uncaring. He just organizes his beliefs about the world very differently from me because of his accumulated experiences.

If most voters agreed with John, then candidates would be wise to favor both unions and tariffs and to oppose race-conscious policies. But that is not my point. John represents one sliver of a very heterogeneous electorate. A policy recipe that would appeal to him would not work for many others.

I should acknowledge that I know what people mean when they distinguish progressive politicians from centrists. This distinction conveys information to me. If all I know is that politician A is to the left of B, then I will be biased in favor of A. But the information I can glean from these labels is limited, reflecting just one way of organizing the political debate. It is a signal with a whole lot of noise. I would much rather know more than which candidate is considered further left according to a certain elite discourse.

Policy positions do matter, and no one should treat the electorate as ignorant. But it is literally impossible to move to the center–or to the left–if there is no common spectrum.

If you are a candidate, you should generally adopt the policies that you believe are best and advocate for them. If a specific policy is unpopular among swing voters in your constituency, you might need to compromise on it, because you can’t accomplish anything if you lose the election.

You should consider the pros and cons of proposals that elites and specialists would classify as belonging to the left, and the center, and the right. The ideological label of a policy does not tell you whether it is smart.

However, you shouldn’t adopt a miscellaneous list of policies. You should present your ideas coherently. You need a narrative or core theme. But each candidate’s thematic coherence may look distinctive.

You should demonstrate respect for the electorate by endorsing and defending specific positions. But you should also realize that your policy platform is just one factor. At least as important are your biography and record, your rhetorical style, and your modes and methods of campaigning.


Sources: Donald R. Kinder and Nathan P. Kalmoe, Neither Liberal nor Conservative: Ideological Innocence in the American Public (University of Chicago Press, 2017); Farah Stockman, American Made: What Happens to People When Work Disappears (Random House, 2021). The classic source for the idea that American voters do not understand ideology is Phillip E. Converse, “The nature of belief systems in mass publics (1964)” reprinted in Critical Review 18.1-3 (2006): 1-74. Converse does acknowledge that if people’s opinions are “idiosyncratic,” then we will find “little aggregative patterning of belief combinations,” because people may “put belief elements together in a great variety of ways” (p. 44). For him, this would be evidence of ignorance, but I would observe heterogeneity instead.

My own work on this topic includes: “People Are Not Points in Space: Network Models of Beliefs and Discussions.” Critical Review 36.1-2 (2024): 119-145; and “Mapping ideologies as networks of ideas.” Journal of Political Ideologies 29.3 (2024): 464-491.

the Democratic Party and the media environment

This new study by Democracy Matters (as reported in Politico) is typical of a wave of recent commentary:

The Democratic brand “is suffering,” as working-class voters see the party as “too focused on social issues and not nearly focused enough on the economic issues that impact every one, every day,” the report said.

“We lost people we used to get [in 2024], so why did we lose them? Why don’t we go ask them,” said Mitch Landrieu, co-chair of Democracy Matters and senior adviser to then-President Joe Biden. “They said what they thought about us and it was painful to hear … They feel forgotten, left out, and that their issues are not prioritized by the Democratic Party or the Republican Party.”

He added, “They want somebody focused first, second and third, on their economic stress.”

The usual implication is that Democratic candidates should stop talking about “cultural” issues–or maybe even pick fights with left-wingers on cultural issues–to gain the trust of working-class voters.

An important working paper by Shakked Noy and Aakaash Rao, “The Business of the Culture War,” offers a different perspective. These authors show that politicians in general, and particularly Democratic candidates, consistently emphasize economic issues. However, cable news fixates on cultural issues. The result is a deeply distorted impression of politicians, and (I suspect) especially of Democrats.

For example, in the 2016 election cycle, about three quarters of all political advertising, but just one quarter of cable news coverage, focused on the economy (p. 2). Since 2000, political candidates’ ads have been almost 10 times more likely than cable news to discuss corporate taxes, but cable news has been almost 10 times more likely than political candidates to discuss LGBTQ issues (p. 12). In 2022, the most recent year of the study, “economic topics comprise[d] the majority of messaging” by candidates of both parties, but 70 percent of cable news coverage was about cultural issues (p. 11).

To some extent, cable news may report and discuss the positions that politicians take on cultural issues. But at least some of the coverage isn’t about candidates or office-holders at all. It’s about activists and pundits and celebrities. And to the extent that politicians appear on cable news as guests or as topics, they are unrepresentative: atypical politicians who want to engage in the culture war.

Noy and Rao contribute an explanatory model. Using pretty persuasive methods and data, they show that cable news channels gain viewers in proportion to the degree that they focus on contentious cultural issues. This is true for both Fox and MSNBC. On the other hand, candidates (right and left) are more likely to win elections to the degree that they focus on economic issues. The incentives are different, apart from anyone’s ideological agenda.

When political leaders blame “the media,” this can be an excuse. We need leaders to solve problems. However, as an observer, I do blame the media. I doubt that it would be possible–even if it were desirable–for Democrats to pivot to bread-and-butter issues. The news platforms that draw the most viewers will keep covering culture wars. They will always have plenty to say on the air as long as there are any Americans (no matter how remote from political power) who say controversial things.

It is true that the proportion of Democratic campaign advertisements that emphasized economic policy or economic conditions fell from about 35 percent in 2008 to about 15 percent in 2020, and the proportion devoted to racial issues spiked during 2016-18 (see appendix, p. 3). Taken by themselves, these facts might suggest that Democrats have erred by shifting their attention to less popular issues. Noy and Rao offer a general model that can explain shifts of this type: politicians are affected by the news media in ways that may harm their own electoral prospects.

However, the decline in attention to economic conditions after 2008 has a more specific explanation. Democrats attacked Republicans for the economy during the 2008 Bush recession but then became responsible for the (recovering) economy under Obama. Also, what I named a “spike” in Democrats’ attention to race was a temporary change from about one percent of all their campaign advertising in 2008 to about seven percent during one cycle.

Democratic candidates are already talking about economics and healthcare. Not only because of ideological biases but also for business reasons, cable news constantly changes the subject to contentious cultural issues. There is little point in discussing whether Democratic candidates should adjust their rhetoric. But they should change their means and modes of reaching the American people, reducing the importance of cable news (and viral videos) by investing more in year-round grassroots organizing.

the politics of nostalgia just isn’t what it used to be

I believe Arthur Schlesinger, Jr. coined the phrase “politics of nostalgia” in a 1955 article in which he observed, “Today, we are told, the bright young men are conservatives; the thoughtful professors are conservatives; even a few liberals, in their own cycle of despair, are beginning to avow themselves conservatives.”

This article is light but disdainful. Schlesinger dismisses the intellectual conservatives of his day as “irrelevant” and a “hothouse growth.” They feel nostalgic, and they officially endorse a principled form of conservatism that respects ancestors and inherited ways. But the USA “is a dynamic and expanding economy” whose elites are not landed aristocrats but plutocrats. So the real power on the right is not conservatism but business, which seeks lower taxes and less regulation and welcomes rapid change.

Schlesinger wrote a long time ago, and nostalgia seems much more widespread today, when relatively few people celebrate a dynamic economy or its attendant technological and social advances. Even our plutocrats (Silicon Valley barons) often sound scared of the future or bitter about present obstacles to their genius.

Not only is MAGA nostalgic, but so are never-Trump conservatives and, I think, many across the broad spectrum of the left. To be sure, progressives insist that progress occurred in living memory, especially on social issues. Nevertheless, they (or perhaps I should include myself and say “we”) tend to be deeply nostalgic for a remembered time when society seemed to be moving in the right direction and when crises–from climate change to polarization–had not reached their current levels.

Analytically, it might be worth distinguishing these political attitudes:

  • Despair: the attitude that things cannot or will not improve.
  • Fear, in the sense of Judith Shklar’s “Liberalism of Fear” (1989). Shklar’s starting point: “somewhere someone is being tortured right now.” Her philosophy is “a response to these undeniable actualities, and it therefore concentrate[d] on damage control.” She is “entirely nonutopian,” motivated by memories of disaster, not by hope for a better state. Her main recommendation is to limit state power.
  • Caution based on pessimism. Montaigne (1588) writes, “Our morals are extremely corrupt and have an amazing tilt toward getting worse; among our laws and customs, several are barbaric and monstrous: however, because of the difficulty of putting ourselves in a better state and the danger of further decline, if I could plant a peg in our wheel and stop it at this point, I would do so willingly.”
  • Nostalgia: A bittersweet appreciation for a past state, combined with regret for its passing. Nostalgia is compatible with hope, and it need not imply pessimism. However, the following common features of nostalgia can be obstacles to progress or can simply prevent clear thinking:
  1. Nostalgia often assumes that a harmonious and integrated condition continued over a whole span of the past. “This is how things were back in the day … This is how my life was back then …” In contrast, we often perceive our present selves and our current society as inconsistent or even contradictory and as constantly changing (Hart 1973, Brewer 2023). This contrast biases us against the present.
  2. Envy easily attaches to nostalgia. We wish that we could be like the people back in the time for which we feel nostalgic. We may envy individuals or groups who benefited from causing those good times to end for us. However, as Walter Benjamin notes, we never seem to envy the people of the future. Someone living in 1925 might have anticipated the amount of technological and economic progress that has occurred since then, yet they didn’t envy us. Likewise, we don’t envy our successors, even if we are optimistic. Envy is problematic because it is zero-sum and promotes conflict.
  3. Nostalgia can erase the salutary kind of fear that Shklar recommends. Near the beginning of The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Kundera’s narrator says that everything is bathed in nostalgia in the face of dissolution, even the guillotine. People feel nostalgic for moments of crisis and action, such as the French Revolution: “Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive” (Wordsworth). They forget the violence, confusion, failure, and vices of the moment. Of course, good things also happened, but nostalgia distorts our estimation and causes us to discount present dangers.
  4. Nostalgia suggests that the best choices were obvious and makes us angry at those who chose badly, or self-critical if we think that we were unwise. We think: Why didn’t they (or we) prevent harmful change? But we always act under conditions of deep uncertainty and confusion, and the best choices are rarely obvious until it is too late.
  5. Nostalgia tends to discourage action. It is not a sharp analysis of trends that can recommend concrete reforms to restore broken institutions or to reverse declines. Nostalgia is a hazy, elegiac, twilight feeling; an attitude for spectators rather than actors.

To summarize: Nostalgia can cause symptoms of bias, envy, complacency, anger and/or disdain, and passivity. As one who exhibits all of its symptoms, I recommend trying to avoid it.


See also: nostalgia in the face of political crisis; phenomenology of nostalgia; nostalgia for now.

Sources: Judith N. Shklar, “The Liberalism of Fear,” in Nancy L. Rosenblum, ed. Liberalism and the moral life. Harvard University Press, 1989, pp. 27, 26; Montaigne 2.17 (“Of Presumption”), my trans.; Marshawn Brewer, “Sketch for a Phenomenology of Nostalgia,” Human Studies 46.3 (2023): 547-563; J.G. Hart “Toward a phenomenology of nostalgia,” Man and World 6 (1973), 406-7; Walter Benjamin, Über den Begriff der Geschichte (1940), II.

the historical trend for discretionary federal spending

Until today, I had not understood the trends shown in the graph above (from Aherne, Labonte, & Lynch 2024).

As a proportion of the economy, total federal spending has been fairly constant since 1962. Entitlements (Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid) and defense keep the whole cost pretty stable. The cost has risen during recessions because bad times increase eligibility for entitlements. This means that the early Reagan years saw a temporary peak in total federal spending (notwithstanding Reagan’s anti-government rhetoric), and the Great Recession and COVID caused big temporary increases.

Meanwhile, federal discretionary spending quite steadily declined from 1965 and 2000. It has fluctuated since then from a lower baseline.

That means that the basket that includes highways and air traffic control, prisons and border control, diplomacy and foreign aid, agricultural subsidies, Food Stamps, etc. represents a smaller percentage of the economy than it did in the 1960s.

Looking more closely at components, we can often find anomalous patterns. For example, total federal spending on education (k12 and college, including financial aid and research) was 1 percent of GDP in 1975 and 1.1 percent in 2024, with spikes during recessions.

Since the economy has grown each decade, a shrinking proportion of GDP could still purchase more goods and services. But that has not really happened during the 21st century. Another telling graph from the same report (below) shows discretionary spending in billions of dollars, adjusted for inflation. It separates defense from non-defense spending. Until COVID hit, neither component had risen (or fallen) in real terms compared to 2005. The Obama stimulus did cause a temporary boost, but that went away. Then COVID spending and the Biden stimulus boosted non-defense spending, which has come down but remains about 25 percent higher than it was in 2019.

These graphs explain why the kinds of public goods that we expect from the national government in the United States often seem to have shrunk or deteriorated, even while the total cost and size of the federal government has remained at least constant.

These data challenge certain assumptions popular among conservatives–that federal spending has risen and that Republican presidents have cut government while in office. (By the way, Elon Musk’s recent rampage will hardly be visible on these graphs when the lines are extended into 2025. Total federal spending rose during the first quarter of 2025.)

These graphs also challenge progressives’ assumptions that government has been shrinking in the era of neoliberalism. Indeed, even discretionary domestic spending is quite a bit higher than it was in 2005 or 2012-19, when adjusted for inflation. What progressives observe is not a shrinking government but a decline in non-defense discretionary spending (as a proportion of the economy) between 1965 and 2000, which has left many national government functions weaker than they were in the mid-1900s.


Source: Aherne, Drew C., Labonte, Marc & Lynch, Megan S., “Discretionary Spending in 10 Graphs” (2024), Congressional Research Service https://www.congress.gov/crs-product/R48164. See also taxing and spending are more compatible with democratic values than regulation is; how public opinion on social spending has changed: a generational approach

reaching the opt-outs

In today’s New York Times, Rob Flaherty, who was Kamala Harris’ deputy campaign manager, argues that Democrats lose “opt-out voters,” people who distrust all politicians and all traditional media and who obtain their politically relevant information from other sources, such as online influencers or real-life contacts who follow the influencers. These “opt-outs” may start out looking for tips on health or nutrition or relationships or gaming (not politics), but they find their way to right-wing propaganda.

I can support some of these generalizations with data from the 2020 American National Election Study. (I don’t think 2024 data are available yet). For example:

  • 61.5% of strong Republicans and 5.5% of strong Democrats expressed no trust in the media.
  • 26% of strong Republcans and 8% of strong Democrats fully agreed that “Much of what people hear in schools and media are lies by those in power.”
  • 6% of strong Republicans and 30% of strong Democrats trusted experts much more than ordinary people for public policy.
  • Of those who said they did not follow the 2020 campaign using any source listed on the survey, 57% said they intended to vote for Trump; 27% for Biden.

It would be possible to overstate this problem. If most Americans only got information from unreliable influencers, then Trump’s approval rating would not have declined across most of the population in 100 days, before his tariffs and cuts had directly affected many people. If influencers had persuaded everyone to hate civil servants and researchers, then DOGE’s personnel cuts would not be as unpopular as they are. Evidently, many non-Democrats are seeing hard news. Nevertheless, Flaherty’s diagnosis is important.

His recommendation is to build an alternative media environment that carries people from “culture” (their interests in regular things like health or relationships) to liberal political ideas.

I doubt this approach is realistic, and it creates more of conflict or even contradiction for the institutionalist center-left than it does for the MAGA right (or, indeed, for the radical left). Basically, it asks liberals who believe in institutions to use anti-institutionalist means, which looks hypocritical and may prove impossible.

Here is an alternative: People have reasons to trust big, impersonal systems only when the human representatives of those systems relate to them well. For example, I trust the mainstream scientific views of vaccines and climate change not because I understand all the science, but because human beings who represent science as an institution–my own k12 and college teachers, doctors and nurses, and now my academic colleagues–have generally earned my trust. They relate to me with respect, as a fellow citizen.

Actually, not even scientists understand the science, because the necessary knowledge exceeds any person’s capacity (and much of it is built into instruments and software and datasets that each user must simply trust). But some of us have confidence in the whole process because we have benefitted from most of the moments when it has touched us directly.

The sociologist Anthony Giddens calls this process “re-embedding”: contacts between abstract systems and ordinary people via professionals who represent the systems. To be honest, I have never read a significant amount of Giddens, but I take his vocabulary from a relevant article by Mills and St Clair (2025).

The employees who are points of contact between abstract systems and regular people include teachers and professors (and educational administrators), doctors and nurses, lawyers and police officers, local elected officials, and reporters.

Americans have widely differing experiences with these professionals and varying grounds for trust. If you are at risk of being stopped and harassed by the police on account of your race, you do not have a reason to trust the criminal justice system. If your doctor dismisses your concerns, or you can’t even afford to see one, then you have less reason to trust the health sciences. If you can’t get into college, can’t afford the tuition, or experience contempt for your home culture in a college classroom, then our trust in academia is bound to fall. If your kids’ k12 school is failing–or if it seems driven by standardized curricula and tests and there’s no way for parents to engage–then you have reasons to be skeptical of schools.

For center-left institutionalists, I don’t think there’s any shortcut. In an environment where it pays to attract outrage by attacking abstract systems, we must make these systems as accountable, caring, and interactive as possible so that people will have reasons to trust them more.

The goal is for people’s “influencers” to be their own kids’ teachers, their doctors, and the reporters for their local newspaper (among others). This requires not just encouraging them to trust people who often have more education, power, and income than they do, but also making these professionals more consistently trustworthy.


Source: Mills, M. Anthony, and Price St. Clair. “The Strange New Politics of Science.” Issues in Science and Technology 41, no. 3 (Spring 2025): 40–48. https://doi.org/10.58875/NDTQ1755. See also to restore trust in schools and media, engage people in civic life; my own trust in institutions; it’s no accident that people distrust institutions (2017); and many other posts.