Against Fortress Liberalism
For forty years, liberals have accepted defeat and called it “incremental progress.” Bernie Sanders offers a different way forward.
by
Matt Karp
Bernie Sanders in the South Bronx on March 31, 2016. Michael Vadon / Flickr
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The primary campaign between Hillary Clinton and Bernie Sanders has produced the most direct ideological battle the Democratic Party has seen in a generation. It’s not just the policy differences that separate Sanders’s blunt
social-democratic platform from Clinton’s
neoliberal grab bag. The two candidates embody clashing theories of politics — alternative visions of how to achieve progressive goals within the American political system.
The Bernie Sanders model of change has all the subtlety of an index finger raised high above a debate podium. Lay out a bold, unapologetic vision of reform that speaks directly to people’s basic needs. Connect that vision to existing popular struggles, while mobilizing a broad and passionate coalition to support it (#NotMeUs). Ride this wave of democratic energy to overwhelm right-wing opposition and enact major structural reforms.
The Hillary Clinton model of change, on the other hand, begins not with policy or people but with a politician. Choose an experienced, practical leader who explicitly rejects unrealistic goals. Rally around that leader’s personal qualifications, while defending past achievements and stressing the value of party loyalty (#ImWithHer). Draw on the leader’s expertise to grind away at Congress and accumulate incremental victories that add up to significant reform.
For most of the Left, Clinton-style “incrementalism” is just a code word to disguise what is effectively a
right-wing retrenchment. Nevertheless many self-identified progressives have backed Clinton’s “theory of politics” as the most realistic path to achieve Sanders’s objectives.
“As a temperamentally moderate figure,” the liberal
Boston Globeargued, Clinton is best positioned to “take concrete steps to get relevant legislation enacted.”
Other editorial boards,
corporate legal bloggers, and
billionaires in the back seats of limousines have likewise endorsed the Clinton model as the only serious form of politics in a polarized republic. But they struggle to identify a major progressive victory that Clinton-style incrementalism has won in the past half-century.
Clinton’s eight-year term in the Senate produced bills to regulate video game violence and flag burning, both of which died in committee.
Bill Clinton’s eight-year term in the White House gave us an expanded Earned Income Tax Credit and a small children’s health insurance program — but also NAFTA, the 1994 crime bill,
welfare reform, the Defense of Marriage Act, financial deregulation, and a grand bargain to gut Social Security that was
only thwarted by a timely sex scandal.
The pragmatic, piecemeal, and irreproachably moderate
achievements of Jimmy Carter are still more dispiriting. Even judged by the charitable standards of American liberalism, the forty-year balance sheet of “incremental progress” is decidedly negative.
Beltway pundits scoff at Sanders’s model of change, meanwhile, as if the Vermont senator thinks he can defeat a Republican Congress by getting a few hundred protestors to
yell slogans outside Capitol Hill.
They naturally fail to mention that as a matter of historical record,
the Sanders model happened to produce Social Security, the National Labor Relations Act, the Voting Rights Act, Medicare, and Medicaid.
The simple truth is that virtually every significant and lasting progressive achievement of the past hundred years was achieved not by patient, responsible gradualism, but through brief flurries of bold action. The Second New Deal in 1935–36 and Civil Rights and the Great Society in 1964–65 are the outstanding examples, but the more ambiguous victories of the Obama era fit the pattern, too.
These reforms came in a larger political environment characterized by intense popular mobilization — the more intense the mobilization, the more meaningful the reform. And each of them was overseen by an unapologetically liberal president who hawked a sweeping agenda and rode it all the way to a landslide victory against a weakened right-wing opposition.
All three bursts of reform, of course, were shaped by the need to deal with opponents in Congress — including conservative Democrats — who imposed their own conditions. And even the
New Deal and
the Great Society, of course, were
profoundly compromised in ways that no one on the Left is likely to forget.
Nevertheless these were real victories. None of them was won in the name of moderation, incrementalism, or the sober-minded rejection of ambitious goals.
At the 1936 Democratic convention, Franklin Roosevelt famously called for a “
rendezvous with destiny,” not a rendezvous with
tax credits for small businesses. Roosevelt took it as his duty to push against the boundaries of the politically possible, not surrender to them: “Today we stand committed to the proposition that freedom is no half-and-half affair. If the average citizen is guaranteed equal opportunity in the polling place, he must have equal opportunity in the market place.”
“There are those timid souls who say this battle cannot be won; that we are condemned to a soulless wealth,”
declared Lyndon Johnson in 1964. “I do not agree. We have the power to shape the civilization that we want.”
Compare that to our current Democratic front-runner, whose
most impassioned moment on the 2016 campaign trail came when she denounced single-payer health care as an idea “that will never, ever come to pass.”
With New York’s closed primary around the corner, Hillary Clinton has made a special virtue of her career-long party registration. But if anybody is looking for the Democratic tradition of Roosevelt and Johnson, surely Bernie Sanders is its heir.
Fortress Liberalism
Of course, liberal incrementalists rule out this kind of talk at once: don’t you know
the Republicans control Congress? 1936 and 1964 are irrelevant precedents, because the central fact of our political lives is the dominance of the Republican Party.
In this view right-wing opposition is not to be dislodged, let alone defeated. At best, it is to be resisted from within the walls of the Democratic Party fortress known as the White House. “The next Democratic presidential term will be mostly defensive,” writes
Jonathan Chait — no more or less than a “bulwark” against Republican extremism in Congress.
This kind of “fortress liberalism,” to adapt a
phrase of Rich Yeselson’s, is the dominant mentality within today’s Democratic establishment. In some ways, it’s a welcome retreat from the 1990s, when the Clintons and their allies worked actively to drive the party to the right. With the significant exceptions of education and trade policy, the post-2010 Obama era has been much more ideologically quiescent.
But fortress liberalism has been pernicious in its own way, especially for the millions of struggling Americans stranded
outside the fortress.
Seldom do establishment Democrats stop to consider whether this negative mentality — both disturbingly complacent and profoundly uninspiring — has contributed to the
steady evisceration of the party at the state level.
According to
pollsters,
political scientists, and
their own tribunes, Democrats are now the dominant national party in the United States. (They have, after all, won the popular vote in five of the last six presidential elections.) Yet since 2009 Democrats have lost a record nine-hundred state legislative seats, thirty state chambers, and twelve governorships.
Not since George McClellan took command of the Army of the Potomac has American history witnessed such a wonderful capacity for
dealing from strength but still getting crushed every time.
For many older liberals, moderate incrementalism is a response to the political disappointments of the last forty years. Unquestionably, for laborers, leftists and liberals alike, the post-1970s period has been an era of profound defeat.
And as
Arthur Goldhammer observes in one of the wisest of the many jaded-elders-for-Hillary think pieces, it’s wrong to think the Democratic Party turned rightward chiefly because of the personal malice of the Clinton family.
The erosion of labor unions, the retreat of social democracy, and the rise of an aggressive right are products of both contingent political struggles and larger historical transformations that extend beyond American borders.
Yet as Zach Goldhammer writes in a
powerful rejoinder to his father, the bittersweet melancholia of defeated liberals is also a strategic blindness. Neither the structural conditions nor the political configurations of 1980 or 1992 apply to 2016.
Across the industrialized world, forty years of flattened wages and concentrated wealth have created deep resentments among voters left behind. Many of them have turned toward the ethnic-nationalist right. But in both Europe and in the United States there are signs that the Left is gaining strength for the first time in decades.
Last year Gallup found that more Americans identify as “
working class” than at any time in this century. According the General Social Survey, Americans under thirty-five are by far
the most likely to adopt this class identity — by 2014, over 56 percent considered themselves members of the “working class.”
These young Americans have grown up outside the shadows of the
Cold War, but deep within the gloom of a triumphant global capitalism. They are Bernie Sanders’s base, and they have begun to shift
the entire spectrum of American politics to the Left.
The energy of Black Lives Matter and Fight For 15 — activist movements whose scope and ambition did not exist a generation ago — is one sure marker of change.
A less dramatic but equally significant development is the startling willingness of American voters to accept new taxes.
Last week
Vox and Morning Consult
polled registered voters about whether they were “willing to pay additional taxes” to fund certain programs.