In the aftermath of Kamala Harris’s loss, many pundits and politicians are turning to a familiar scapegoat. Critics like Adam Jentleson, a former aide to senators Harry Reid and John Fetterman, claim that “woke” advocacy groups made Democrats adopt extreme policies and drove voters away from the Democratic Party, sealing Donald Trump’s victory. But the truth is simpler—and more uncomfortable for the Democratic establishment. Despite the noise, voters didn’t reject Harris because of leftist rhetoric or activist slogans. They rejected her because she and her party failed to address the economic pain of working-class voters, who chose change over more of the same.

There’s a generation of Black and brown organizers, often the first in their families to step into positions of power, navigating institutions historically dominated by others. Alongside them are downwardly mobile white millennials, raised with expectations of stability but battered by an economy that delivers none. These activists, working within nonprofits and campaigns, fighting for causes once central to Democratic values, have somehow become scapegoats for the party’s electoral woes.

Why, after every electoral loss, is the left always the scapegoat? It’s easier to blame activists for pushing a progressive agenda than confront the real issue: the Democratic Party has long been shaped by far more powerful forces—corporate interests, lobbyists, and consultants—whose influence has neglected the real crises facing everyday Americans. We see this cycle again and again.

Contrary to establishment narratives, the Democratic leadership has often resisted advocacy organizations pushing for bold reforms on immigration, Big Tech, climate, debt, healthcare, rent, mass incarceration, Palestinian rights, and for policies like the Build Back Better agenda. This tension isn’t just about differing priorities—it reveals the actual balance of forces in the party. Corporate donors on Wall Street and Silicon Valley pour billions into campaigns, shaping agendas to suit their interests. A consultant class reaps millions from flawed strategies and failed candidates yet continues to fail upward, perpetuating a pattern of mediocrity. They, not progressives, are the roadblock preventing Democrats from becoming a populist force that could disrupt the status quo and win back voters of all stripes.

It was these elements within the party that kneecapped the Democrats’ most ambitious efforts to help ordinary Americans. The Biden administration entered with huge plans, notably Build Back Better, which would have delivered immediate relief: expanded child tax credits, free community college, universal child care and pre-K, paid leave, and more. Progressives pushed mightily for Build Back Better to pass. It was centrist obstruction—namely Senators Manchin and Sinema—that blocked those policies. The result was a patchwork of long-term measures like the Inflation Reduction Act and the Bipartisan Infrastructure Deal, whose benefits won’t be felt until 2025 at the earliest, if at all. By failing to pass Build Back Better, Democrats lost the chance to deliver easy-to-understand, tangible economic benefits and solidify their image as the party of working people.

And it was corporate Democrats—particularly lobbyists like Harris’s brother-in-law, former Uber executive Tony West, and David Plouffe—who held the most sway over Harris’s campaign. They advised her to cozy up to ultra-wealthy celebrities, Liz and Dick Cheney, and Mark Cuban, and avoid populist rhetoric that could have distanced her from the corporate elites who dominate the party. In 2024, the biggest spenders in Democratic Party politics weren’t progressives—it was AIPAC, cryptocurrency PACs, and corporate giants like Uber, all of whom poured millions into Democratic campaigns without regard for public opinion or the will of the people.

The Harris campaign’s messaging failed because, while populist economic appeals resonated with voters, the public face of the campaign was discouraged from embracing them. Instead, the focus was on issues like democracy and abortion, which, while important, couldn’t by themselves capture the priorities of working-class voters. In her public remarks and interviews, Harris, drawing on the advice of corporate leaders, frequently adopted a Wall Street–friendly tone that resonated with business interests, even if it alienated many of her core supporters.

Current Issue

July/August 2026 Issue

It’s easy to forget that in 2020, Democrats saw historic turnout, driven largely by young voters who were energized by the largest left-wing and Black freedom protests since the 1960s. Biden won, and Democrats seemed to capture the nation’s hunger for justice and change, even as protesters marched with polarizing slogans like “Defund the Police.” Despite the controversy surrounding these messages, Biden triumphed decisively, calling for racial justice. The energy in the streets reflected a moment of possibility, a vision that real change was within reach. But by 2024, that grassroots energy had dissipated, and the Biden-Harris administration did little to revive it.

The loss of energy that Biden and Harris presided over showed up in youth turnout, which dropped to 42 percent in 2024, down from 50 percent in 2020 and closer to 2016 levels. However, battleground states saw higher youth turnout, around 50 percent. Young voters favored Harris over Trump by four points (51 percent to 47 percent), a sharp decline from Biden’s 25-point lead in 2020. The administration’s failure to offer a compelling narrative or deliver meaningful economic reforms alienated many young voters, especially on issues like unconditional weapons transfers to Israel. Trump capitalized on this vacuum with false promises and an anti-war message. Meanwhile, young workers, hit hardest by inflation and stagnant wages, saw little relief from the administration’s policies, leaving them feeling unseen and unmotivated. The simplest explanation may be the most accurate: after four years in opposition, Democrats under Biden had no plan for countering centrist obstruction from Manchin and Sinema. Nor did they have a clear strategy for transitioning to a new candidate, as Biden once suggested, or supporting a contested 2024 primary.

This disconnect was made worse by the administration’s lackluster communication strategy. Biden has avoided the media more than any modern president. In contrast, Mexico’s President Andrés Manuel López Obrador (AMLO) dominated the narrative with daily, three-hour, entertaining, and combative press conferences that have earned him one of the largest YouTube followings in Mexico. AMLO’s approach to the attention economy helped his party to secure another presidential term, defying global anti-incumbent trends.

Biden and Harris’s reluctance to embrace what some Democratic elites might view as “tasteless” or “uncouth” populist appeals allowed their opponents to seize the public’s attention, creating a void that ultimately drained the administration of the energy and momentum it once had. Trump’s simple, emotionally charged narrative about fixing the economy, winding down foreign wars, restoring order, and protecting “traditional” American values may have been filled with bigotry and lies. But it commanded the public discourse, pushing the Biden-Harris administration off center stage.

It’s true that some younger leftists embrace purity politics. But as Semafor’s Benjy Sarlin points out, the most polarizing moments in recent Democratic campaigns—like Beto O’Rourke’s “Hell yes” remark on gun confiscation or Julián Castro’s call to decriminalize border crossings during the 2020 primaries—were driven by the candidates themselves, not external activist pressure. Why did Kamala Harris take the positions she did in 2019? Because she was trying to distinguish herself in a crowded Democratic primary, where Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren were surging and Biden seemed to have the center locked down. Ultimately, these moves were about gaining media attention in a competitive primary, not a direct result of pressure from advocacy groups—many of which, like Sunrise Movement, Working Families Party, and Justice Democrats, with which I was affiliated, have spent years working within the system to create lasting change and deliver real policy results that resonate with voters

The backlash against “wokeness” often rests on vague critiques, offering little more than cultural hand-wringing without any clear solutions. And when those solutions do emerge, they’re often morally indefensible. Jentleson’s criticism of progressive advocacy groups rings especially hollow when you consider the track record of his own political mentors. In 2010, his former boss, Harry Reid, publicly opposed the “Ground Zero mosque,” a proposed Islamic cultural center near the World Trade Center. While technically acknowledging the developers’ rights, Reid capitulated to Republican culture wars by suggesting Muslim Americans build the mosque elsewhere. This wasn’t a principled stance—it was a political maneuver that lent legitimacy to Islamophobia, feeding into narratives from figures like Sarah Palin and Newt Gingrich, who compared the center to a Nazi building next to the Holocaust Museum. In doing so, Reid allowed bigotry to flourish, leaving a vulnerable community to bear the brunt of political scapegoating.

From asylum seekers to transgender rights, today’s debates mirror the “Ground Zero mosque” controversy. From 2017 to 2020, Democrats, including Harris, were eager to condemn Trump’s cruel immigration policies. Now, however, they seem more focused on dodging the topic altogether. These are issues demanding a new approach, one that emphasizes year-round persuasion and agenda-setting over political convenience. Thermostatic public opinion might be a reality of politics, but voters appreciate when you stand for something with conviction and authenticity.

This is where movements and parties work best together: movements push the boundaries of what’s possible, creating the political space to reframe issues like transgender rights and immigration in majoritarian terms, and politicians follow when the political weather aligns with their self-interest. These two sides will clash, but it’s in that tension that progress lies.

Democrats can’t be scared of that process. They must stop ceding the narrative to far-right framing and instead invest in populist campaigns that aren’t afraid to antagonize villains, highlight the humanity of marginalized communities, and expose the Republican Party’s divide-and-conquer tactics. Only then can they build the political power necessary to shift the conversation and secure real change.

Anyone who knows me knows I’m critical of the academic jargon and misguided tactics that sometimes dominate activist circles. But to blame activists for the party’s struggles is to overlook the much larger battles they’re engaged in: 11 million undocumented Americans left in limbo, a prison system that incarcerates more people than any other in history, and an economy where three people hold more wealth than the bottom half of the country. These are the moral tests of our time—tests that any party claiming to stand for justice will be judged by. Scapegoating those pushing for change isn’t just unfair; it’s counterproductive, fracturing necessary coalitions and undermining the ability of the party to tackle the crises ahead.

Harris’s defeat should prompt serious introspection for Democrats—but not the narrow, one-sided critique Jentleson offers. Everyone, including progressive advocacy groups, has lessons to learn. The path forward isn’t about hippie-punching—it never has been. Time and again, the center-left’s response to electoral defeat has been to blame the unpopular and disruptive activists pushing for progress, whether abolitionists, suffragettes, labor unions, civil rights leaders, or environmentalists.

History reveals that oversimplified approaches often sidestep the harder questions. Success doesn’t come from rejecting the complexity of a diverse coalition but from learning to navigate it. To win, Democrats must inspire the public in a fractured information age, engage meaningfully with the cultural shifts around race, gender, family, and migration, make democracy work despite obstructionists like Manchin and Sinema, and—most critically—deliver tangible results that improve people’s lives. And if the corporate, status quo–loving forces within the party are standing in the way of that mission, they must be moved aside.

Success will come not by pointing fingers but by telling a story of transformation—with clear villains, bold vision, and conviction that democracy can, indeed, make a difference.