Jeremy Corbyn and the radicalism of possibility

Today tens of millions of people in my mother country will vote in an early general election few expected and almost nobody wanted.

Throughout all the emotional vacillations of the past few weeks, the one thing I continue to feel is a sense of hope and possibility that until recently would have seemed very alien. It’s not simply the hope of an outright Labour victory that’s keeping me going (unfortunately, this remains somewhat distant possibility) so much as a sense of possibility created by what Jeremy Corbyn has achieved in rejecting the ossified conventional wisdom of pundits and political gatekeepers.

Virtually all the politics I’ve known in my lifetime have been concerned with contracting the horizons of possibility rather than expanding them. Corbyn has succeeded in the face of all odds by explicitly rejecting the hallowed neoliberal premise that nothing can ever get better; that poverty and inequality are metaphysically hardwired into our societies; that the state can tinker but never transform; that democracy is an inconvenience to be managed rather than an enterprise to be embraced; and most of all that the only appropriate response to 30 years of defeat and retrenchment is to accept, adapt, and continue the march into decline. For once, the possibility of change on offer is the real kind: not the hollow elite spectacle of a Trudeau, Clegg, or Obama, but an electoral program that would qualitatively improve tens of millions of lives with a genuine mass movement at its back.

That such a thing could happen in Britain of all countries, especially after the frankenstein duopoly of Thatcher/Blair, still seems surreal. There is a strange sadness about the place, a haze of resignation and decline that has hovered over every decade since the war in one way or another. It is partly this, I believe, that accounts for the cultural stranglehold conservatism has enjoyed since the late 1970s: it’s what preserves all of the old class hierarchies and the insidious logics that justify them; keeps alive the nativism of Mosley and Rivers of Blood; makes culturally admissible the bourgeois racism of a Farage or a Griffin; it’s what maintains the Victorian moralism which says that the only value more important than Pavlovian deference to aristocracy is pathological contempt for the licentious lower orders; it’s the subtext behind every piece of tabloid grotesquery or Murdoch monstrosity, behind every bogus cultural shibboleth from The Aspirational Society to Alarm Clock Britain; it’s what kept democratic socialism in check even when the working classes were organized in their factories and their mines. 

I have no idea what’s going to happen tonight, of course. But win or lose it feels like something genuinely beautiful has been uncorked.

So, with a few hours to go, here’s to the radicalism of possibility and to the future it might bring for us all. 



A few thoughts on the Conservative leadership race

A few quick and somewhat scattered thoughts on the Conservative leadership race:

-The results demonstrate that the media almost completely misread the race from the get-go. This has become something of a theme in the past few years, though in the other notable instances it’s the more orthodox candidates and narratives that have fallen victim to media misperception and suffered in the final result (here, a relatively orthodox candidate with caucus support ended up winning, contra the dominant media narratives).

-At least four candidates got considerable press, beginning with Kellie Leitch and followed by Kevin O’Leary and Maxime Bernier (with Michael Chong standing in as the ostensibly respectable figure boasting cross-partisan appeal). Without exception, punditry and reporting was moderately to wildly off in its framing/characterization of these campaigns and their overall standing among the public and the CPC rank and file.

-The most notable case here is Kellie Leitch, whose race-baiting immediately won her a Macleans cover story and fostered hyperbolic media narratives about a “culture war” ignored or misunderstood by elites. This turned out to be completely incorrect. Leitch’s donor base (which I wrote an investigation about some months ago) was overwhelmingly wealthy and Toronto-centric and her 7th-place finish suggests that even considerable help from the Ontario PC party machinery couldn’t win her significant support within the Conservative base. Given this, it’s quite extraordinary Leitch received so much attention and that the media was willing to legitimize her candidacy to the extent that it did.

-Kevin O’Leary’s candidacy was harder to read than Leitch’s, but it seems quite obvious in retrospect that he wasn’t really prepared to make a serious effort at winning the job. His less than 20-week career in Canadian politics will be little more than a footnote to a footnote. What a joke.

-Both Chong and Bernier enjoyed a real constituency among op-ed writers, largely thanks to their mutual willingness to speak wonkishly about riveting topics from carbon taxes to dairy-market deregulation. For different reasons, this attention proved to be misplaced.

-As for Chong it should have been perfectly obvious how small the constituency was for his bipartisan pitch (same-sex marriage OK, carbon taxes GOOD, etc.) the main reason being that there already exists another political party reflecting these very principles (“socially liberal but fiscally conservative”[!!!!]). Why a figure like Scott Gilmore is trying to drum up support for a new party along these lines while one already exists is simply beyond me.

-As for Bernier we were almost universally assured by the various opinion-makers of #cdnpoli that his victory was inevitable. (True, the Conservative voting process is complex and somewhat inscrutable. But that the actual winner Andrew Scheer was barely on the radar is testament to just how badly the media misread this thing.) Bernier’s initial pitch seemed targeted mainly at Campus Conservative types (especially of the bowie-wearing variety) and the more wonkish denizens of the pundit brigade (the types of op-ed writers who have turned agitated thinkpieces about supply-management into a cottage industry). That this latter constituency is so easily seduced speaks volumes, given that several of Bernier’s other positions are so transparently ridiculous (e.g. bringing back the Gold Standard). Late in his campaign, Bernier clearly recognized that the wind was blowing in a more alt-rightish direction and pivoted appropriately. While this got him enough votes to nearly carry the thing, some of his more eccentric policy positions seem to have alienated potential support in caucus – which probably helped secure the relatively bland (but also SoCon-approved) Scheer the leadership crown.

-Scheer seems very much in the mould of Stephen Harper, as in: a figure with quite conservative instincts and beliefs that will largely be overridden in the pursuit of respectability. The Conservative message in Parliament and across the country seems unlikely to change (i.e. that the Liberals are a tax-and-spend regime whose deficits will plunge the country into debt, etc, etc.). This messaging often helps the Liberals reinforce their core narrative with progressive voters (that they’re pro-middle class and pro-activist government, neither of which is really true). Plus ça change…

-The Conservative Party remains what it’s been since inception: a centre-right coalition that houses SoCon and libertarian factions and is committed to an agenda of tax and spending cuts and right wing nationalism.

In other words, the story here seems less about the actual result and more about what the paid opinion-makers got wrong. The status quo in Canadian politics will continue for now but may find itself disrupted at any time, particularly as global events unfold.

If such a shift does happen, on the right or left or both, don’t go looking for a good account of it in a mainstream newspaper.


Who’s to blame for Brexit?

It’s genuinely upsetting to witness the triumph of a Leave campaign fronted by reactionary figures likes Nigel Farage and Boris Johnson in last night’s referendum (what occurred yesterday conceivably marks Britain’s sharpest shift to the right since 1979, a fact upsetting enough on its own…). But I’m seeing far too many examples today (admittedly from the predictable sources) of people taking out their anger, fear, and confusion on Leave voters – who keep being caricatured as a feral rabble (“old, angry, white people” – Esquire).

I understand the impulse to blame “democracy” for the result of the vote, but this isn’t constructive or accurate. People living in the northern and eastern parts of England, who overwhelmingly backed Brexit, have seen their living standards fall, the quality of their political representation decline, and their jobs disappear for the past three decades. Many of them may be misguided in believing a UK independent of the EU will give them a better deal, but they have a right to be angry and it would be hugely surprising if they weren’t.

The British establishment – encompassing the Westminster political class, financial elites, and much of the media – offers these people very little and frequently tries to manage their concerns for its own opportunistic ends rather than actually address or represent their needs (Cameron promising the referendum in an attempt to stave off the threat from UKIP and his own hardliners is evidence of this). It’s these people, not those in Yorkshire or the West Midlands, who deserve the blame for the referendum and the ire of those upset about its final result.

Right wing populism of the kind which carried the Leave side to victory last night flourishes in societies that have become unequal and unfair, where most of the wealth and power is monopolized by small groups of self-replicating elites.

In other words: Brexit is not the product of “too much democracy”. It’s the product of not enough.


Liberalism without the left

Lately – and probably in no small part due to the US presidential race – I’ve been thinking about the extent to which the robustness of liberalism as a political ideology depends on the forces pressuring it from the left.

Today, when pressed on questions of economic justice, many liberals respond with tired market dogma, redbait, or simply wilt. Some try and conflate a caricatured “political correctness” with “cultural Marxism”, as if class politics are just an organic extension of the cultural politics found today on many campuses (or vise versa).

In the 1960s liberalism was deeply engaged with questions of economic and distributive justice. The patron saint of liberal political theory, John Rawls, wrote a hugely influential book on the subject which even conceded some ground to socialist theories of public ownership (revealingly, Rawls’ second major book – published more than two decades later – virtually abandoned economic issues and instead attempted to reconcile liberal and communitarian identity politics).

The political and economic backdrop for Rawls’ thinking was very different from what exists today: the US (and most liberal democracies) still had relatively powerful labour movements; the civil rights and antiwar movements loomed large; New Deal welfarism had yet to collapse; Keynesianism was still the economic orthodoxy du jour; a good portion of the world was officially committed to communism and Western socialist parties were still present as both a political and ideological force.


The British general strike, 1926

By the 1990s liberals no longer had to engage with communism, socialism, or social democracy out of necessity and responded to the right instead. The resulting political settlement combined the neoliberal economic theories ascendent since the 1970s with a cultural politics that broke with conservatives in some respects around issues of pluralism and identity, while globalization and the resulting upward redistribution of wealth continued apace. The social bases and institutional structures that had sustained and empowered the left for generations, so brutally and effectively assaulted by the right throughout the 1980s, withered.

In other words, liberalism seems to be at its most robust when it’s been forced to grapple with a strong and mobilized left for an extended period of time: In the absence of one, it sets itself in opposition to the right (a much easier and more comfortable task); when suddenly confronted with one (as it’s starting to be now), it is unprepared and retreats into tired old truisms and cliches.


Review: #TalkToMe

In late 2014 I wrote an article for Jacobin Magazine called “New Atheism, Old Empire”. While acknowledging the somewhat disparate politics of the leading figures in the New Atheist movement, it attempted to expose the ways in which their thinking and rhetoric has helped to construct and legitimize one of the principle intellectual currents undergirding the War on Terror and its destructive geopolitics.

At the core of this project, and often dwarfing its other thrusts, has been, and continues to be, the demonization and singling out of Muslims in the United States and Europe as an ideological, political, and even demographic threat.

The response to the article from New Atheist Twitter (and sometimes the still more sinister alt right) was breathtaking in its sheer vitriol and, once again, almost singularly obsessed with the supposed “threat” posed by our neighbours of Muslim faith.

Striking in many of these responses was their uniformity: the anti-Islamic troll brigade, a permanent feature of social media these days, delights in quoting bits of scripture out of context and treating them literally. Even on the occasions when actual Muslims intervene to disrupt the arguments of Sam Harris acolytes and other ideologues, the same arsenal of quotes is simply drawn from again and again. In other words, it matters less to this subset of the atheist community what practicing Muslims actually think about their own faith and its teachings than what they’re convinced it means and need it to mean to sustain their chosen worldview.

Having been caught in enough of these arguments I’m convinced there’s more at work here than basic intransigence. Political disputes on social media have become infamously stubborn, ugly, and often more liturgical than anything else. But the nastiness hurled at Muslims on social media every day (a reflection of increasingly sinister developments in Europe and the United States) carries with it a deep prejudice that goes beyond the usual boundaries of most toxic online discourse.

The favoured New Atheist tactic of quoting Islamic scripture is a perfect example of this prejudice in action. In the probably hundreds of exchanges about Islam I had following the publication of “New Atheism, Old Empire”, I rarely got the sense that my interlocutors knew any Muslims or had any real knowledge of Islam in practice (and nor did they care to). Their Islam was an abstraction, and their Muslims were caricatures drawn from the pages of Sam Harris books, the screeds of neocon writers like Mark Steyn, shameless propagandists like Ayaan Hirsi Ali, and anti-Islamic talking heads like Bill Maher.

One thing the experience taught me is that you can’t effectively combat deep prejudice with pure facts. To a person who hates an entire religious identity – whether they be an armchair New Atheist, a right wing public intellectual, or a European politician who opposes immigration from majority Muslim countries – it doesn’t seem to particularly matter what Muslims actually do or what they believe. The first maneuver in othering a group of people is essentializing them: straining them of any pluralism or heterogeneity. In the face of this a lone fact dissolves instantly, like a sugar cube dropped into a boiling cup of tea.

So what can be done?


One of the contacts I made thanks to “New Atheism, Old Empire” was Qasim Rashid.  In his new book Talk To Me: Changing the Narrative on Race, Religion, & Education, Rashid provides us with something of answer to the question posed above.


Talk to Me is a collection of stories from people of different backgrounds, voices, and faiths. Its implicit premise is a simple and incredibly potent one: that meaningful and human communication carries with it a unique power that can undermine parochial prejudices and hatreds far better than any raw fact ever could. Stories are lived experience as narrative. They force readers to empathize with their subjects and build relationships with them.

As Rashid writes in his introduction:

Meaningful conversations are not about words—they’re about action. They push us out of our comfort zones and traverse new waters and landscapes. They oblige us to learn about those different than us from those different than us. And when these conversations are conducted effectively, the results are revolutionary.

The stories themselves are a pleasure to read, though too numerous to recount. My personal favourite comes very early in the book when Rashid himself recounts a childhood memory of a new boy arriving at his school in Chicago (in a scene that brings all the social dynamics of the playground flooding back from the depths of memory…): Joseph, like all the other kids in the school in almost every respect, finds himself immediately ostracized when his classmates learn that, as a Jew, he doesn’t celebrate Christmas. Having just arrived in a new city, Joseph’s anxiety is immediately compounded by loneliness and exclusion from his school community.

Encouraged by his father, Rashid befriended Joseph the next day:

“Want to play together at recess today?”. 

Joseph opened his mouth, as if shocked I’d asked the question. He closed it without speaking, then nodded and smiled.

“My name is Qasim Rashid. Q-a-s-i-m. There’s no u after the q.”

“That’s a strange way of spelling. I like it,” he said. “I’m Joseph.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll see you in class, OK?” 

Joseph nodded again and we parted ways.

This short and simple tale of childhood friendship across cultural differences sums up so much of what is great about Talk To Me. Joseph had very little, apart from his cultural background, different than other children – he played the same games and probably spent much of his time doing the things most young kids do. But it took very little for his immediate exclusion.

The story is doubtless a simple and familiar one, but its message resonates well beyond the context of its setting. Cultural and religious differences can produce huge schisms and relations of exclusion (with minority groups almost invariably carrying the burden of corrosive hatred and political persecution, as Muslims in many parts of Europe and the United States do today). But the sharing of lived experiences, through relationships and stories, can be a powerful antidote.

Talk To Me is proof and, with any luck, will receive the wide readership it deserves – particularly from younger generations.

I only hope the right people are listening.





Some 1 AM thoughts on the Sanders campaign and the Democratic primaries

Tonight Bernie Sanders’ campaign won convincingly in Oregon and split the delegates with Hillary Clinton in Kentucky. The various people calling for him to drop out are not only misreading the state of things but are, deliberately or not, failing to recognize what’s animated his campaign from the beginning: the inescapable truth that all meaningful social change requires democratic struggle against the existing order.
If the political epistemology currently being advocated by many liberals had been followed throughout the 20th century, there’d be no welfare state, no equal marriage, no gender equality laws, no desegregation, and no labour movement. The fact is, not one of these things was achieved by elite pundits bleating about delegate math or publishing wonkish tirades to disguise their contempt for working people.
That America’s liberal establishment – encompassing the Democratic Party leadership, much of Wall Street, and a good chunk of the national media – is working so hard to defeat Sanders is no surprise. But it goes further than that, because they aren’t willing to stop until they’ve successfully delegitimized his entire project and branded his millions of supporters a feral minority. At the same time, they demand acquiescence from Sanders supporters. This is what the ever growing body of meta-narratives is really about: the DNC leadership knows that many of its would-be voters want a party that pursues social and economic justice, so they can’t come out and confront Sanders head on – instead, they try to sow doubt about the “realism” of his proposals, attack the rectitude of his supporters, and draw absurd comparisons to Donald Trump. 
Such is their skepticism about economic justice and social equality that they appear determined to bulldoze forward with Clinton’s increasingly shaky campaign and risk losing to Donald Trump rather than winning with Bernie Sanders.
I grew up watching American liberals run from their own shadows, and concede arguments before they’d even begun. The Sanders campaign is an amazing thing to see, and I look forward to watching its momentum continue to build in the weeks ahead – the “delegate math” be damned.

The hermeneutics of wonkery

I spend much of my professional life reading through policy papers from various think tanks and have reached one overriding conclusion: more than anything else, it’s how things are measured and represented that ultimately determines how we think about them.

Across the political spectrum, papers that analyze issues like poverty and climate change in exquisite detail contain virtually all of their substance in their initial premises – not in their subsequent analyses.

For example, if you’re studying poverty it matters more what you understand “poverty” to be in the first place than it does what the empirical details are. How do you measure and represent it? Against what ultimate standards do you set your data against? How you answer these questions will define the contours of your conclusions more than anything else.

Yet in today’s world, most mainstream policy thinking obscures this – understanding itself to be essentially technical in character. This is the TED Talk Syndrome at work: the idea that virtually every social ailment can be understood like a puzzle, all the necessary pieces already being available and simply in need of rearranging. Governments, corporations, and think tanks alike tend to approach problems in this way, with the assumption that change can be created within the parameters already in existence.

The trouble with this formulation is pretty straightforward: most actual problems aren’t the result of badly configured material so much as the lack of a substantively alternative framework or the absence of necessary material to begin with. You can’t defeat climate change unless you fundamentally shift the way resources are consumed and extracted. You can’t simply engineer poverty away, but you can make sure people have more money by redistributing wealth.

And this is the real rub, because you have to agree that those are the objectives in the first place and carefully define what you mean by them.

The lesson here? For all the contemporary fetishization of “evidence-based policymaking” no level of empirical wizardry or technocratic brilliance can escape the fact that how we make policy ultimately depends on our basic assumptions about how people behave and how they should live with one another.

There are no technical solutions to political problems.



A modest proposal: Abolish the House of Commons

Canada’s new government is making good on its promise to create an independent, non-partisan Senate and I couldn’t be happier.

Just yesterday, Prime Minister Trudeau announced his first seven appointees to the Upper Chamber: a veritable smorgasbord of the best and the brightest recommended, no less, by a non-partisan committee that chooses prospective Senators based on merit rather than party affiliation. What a novel concept!

According to the Ministry of Democratic Reform candidates for Senate appointments must meet several criteria, including:

  • Demonstrated a record of achievement and leadership in community service or professional expertise.
  • Proven record of “outstanding” ethics and integrity.
  • Bring perspective that Senate is an independent, non-partisan institution.
  • Understand the Senate’s role in Canada’s constitutional framework.

What’s more: in theory any Canadian can apply to be a Senator, meaning that ordinary citizens will finally have a chamber that represents them (at last!).

And so, finally, the Senate – that repository for party bagmen and patronage going back to the days of Sir John A. – will become a place where intelligent Canadians meet to discuss the issues of the day in an evidence-based environment, free of partisanship and vituperative tribal bickering.

Like a healing, postpartisan balm applied to the deep wounds that have crippled our nation, the new Senate clearly demonstrates Prime Minister Trudeau’s commitment to Real Change; to focusing on the things which unite, rather than divide.

Unfortunately, his work isn’t done. Because, nestled only a short hallway’s walk away from the now harmonious Red Chamber, is a place where the foul reign of partisanship and division continues unencumbered.

That’s why I’d like Prime Minister Trudeau to consider a modest proposal: Abolish the House of Commons.

Tune in any day of the week to the proceedings and what do you see? Argument, disagreement, and debate – to name just three of the ailments. Sometimes the Speaker must remind Honourable Members not to clap for too long. Sometimes there is partisanship. Sometimes voices are even raised.

The physical design of the place alone is nauseating: Two sets of benches counterposed to one another in antagonistic contrast, with government on one side and opposition on the other. Does anyone seriously believe this helps create sober discussion amongst adults? Do the shareholders at a company sit like this at the annual general meeting? Would you model your seating at Christmas dinner on the Lower House? Ummm, I think not.

As for the ever-petulant members who occupy the chamber, what even needs to be said? Unlike the Senate, they are not chosen on merit by a committee independent of partisanship and their seating arrangements are dictated by colour. In 2016. ‘Nuff. Said.

The answer seems clear: the House of Commons – an anachronism from the age of partisan bickering – should be immediately dissolved. It’s time public policy was made solely by grownups accountable to no constituencies except their own consciences.

Because it’s 2016.




The permanent campaign

On the 100-day anniversary of Canada’s new government, both Chantal Hebert and Andrew Coyne seem to agree: symbolism and marketing have quite overwhelmingly trumped substance.

Coyne, who is less sympathetic than Hebert, goes further:

Three months in, the governing style of Justin Trudeau’s government is coming into focus. It is one part not being Stephen Harper, one part symbolic gesture, one part wriggling out of campaign promises, and one part saying yes to everybody. You thought the Harper government was all about the permanent campaign? Get used to it.

If we ignore Coyne’s obviously conservative bent on some issues (the new government was right to get rid of income splitting and CPC laws targeting unions and First Nations, for God’s sake) the general thrust of his argument is correct: the Liberals are waging a kind of permanent campaign built around a series of carefully choreographed gestures – the real contours of their vision remain obscure, and it’s probably going to stay that way.

And that makes perfect sense, given how they fought the election.

The Liberal campaign was, after all, one which left concern-trolled the NDP by promising modest deficits while also attacking its $15/hour federal minimum wage proposal and saying proposed hikes to corporate taxes were anti-business; that trotted out arch-austerian Paul Martin to give lachrymose sermons about the dangers of austerity; that appropriated the rhetoric of Occupy Wall Street to bait the right and neutralize the left, while simultaneously proposing to cut taxes for most of the top 10% of income earners; that criticized the CPC for attacking Canada’s social programs while opposing the NDP’s proposals to create any new ones; it was (*is) both for and against the building of oil pipelines, the mission in Iraq and Syria, substantively changing the electoral system, the Trans-Pacific Partnership agreement, reform of the Senate, Bill C-51, universal social programs…the list goes on.

It was a sunny new approach to politics that involved repeatedly steamrolling local Liberal riding associations and their activists to protect the leadership’s preferred candidates; that happily recruited people like Conservative MP Eve Adams, Bill Blair, and a former Chair of one of the country’s leading right wing think tanks to the cause – not to mention longtime Harper apparatchik Dimitris Soudas.

The overriding theme here is branding: the Liberals propose to “do politics differently”, but their efforts to substantiate this [stated] goal are primarily aesthetic. Reform, where is has happened or will happen, has largely been restorative rather than transformative – Canada is modernizing its way back to circa 2007.

Watching Question Period the past two weeks it’s striking how little the tone of the debate between the government and the official opposition actually reflects any meaningful disagreement. The Tories may bleat about the Liberal plan (yet to be fulfilled) to withdraw Canada’s CF-18s from Syria or Justin Trudeau’s neutralist language around the Energy East pipeline, but the disagreements have more to do with rhetoric than they do with significant disagreement about major issues. Canada’s jets continue to be involved in air strikes (despite an unequivocal campaign promise there is as of yet no timetable for their withdrawal…it’s quite possible they will remain past the CPC’s original timetable or that the mission will simply continue in other forms), and the government proudly trumpets its desire to “get Canadian resources to market”. The disagreement, if you can even call it that, has to do with how openly partisan the government should be about particular issues (the CPC approach is more ideologically honest, though the Liberal one is probably more politically effective).


Photo courtesy of Day Donaldson. Used under Creative Commons license.

Again, branding is the key here.

As a part of its Sunny Ways™, the government has displayed a visible fondness for the affirmation of process. It is “pro-trade” and appears to be pro-TPP, but it will “broadly consult”; it is pro-electoral reform but non-specific about what that reform will be (consultation first); it was elected around a very specific and widely trumpeted set of economic proposals, but it has yet to put these into a budget or even schedule one because it has to consult first.

This will become more difficult to sustain when major decisions actually have to be made, but the Liberals have already proven miraculously adept at political management. With so much energy invested beforehand in legitimizing the process of consultation itself, even unpopular moves can be deemed the product of sincere public outreach.

The political dexterity this approach affords the Liberals is staggering, as these past 100 days have already demonstrated. Justin Trudeau and his party espouse no ideology, and contend to embody the political preferences of all. It is an approach to politics which, to quote Peter C. Newman, promises “as little as possible but as much as necessary”.

The campaign never ends.


Nothing left

Thanks to the emerging debate (if you can call it that) among the American liberal punditry prompted by the Bernie Sanders surge, I’m reminded of this evergreen passage of Adolph Reed’s from his Harper’s cover story “Nothing Left” (written in 2014):

If the left is tied to a Democratic strategy that, at least since the Clinton Administration, tries to win elections by absorbing much of the right’s social vision and agenda, before long the notion of a political left will have no meaning. For all intents and purposes, that is what has occurred. If the right sets the terms of debate for the Democrats, and the Democrats set the terms of debate for the left, then what can it mean to be on the political left? The terms “left” and “progressive” — and in practical usage the latter is only a milquetoast version of the former — now signify a cultural sensibility rather than a reasoned critique of the existing social order. Because only the right proceeds from a clear, practical utopian vision, “left” has come to mean little more than “not right.

Watching the liberal commentariat (and the Clinton campaign) spin tales about how Sanders’ plans are “unrealistic” – while all the while claiming to fidelity to the ideals they represent – is like witnessing a re-run of the “third way” politics that dominated the 1990s and early 2000s.


Politicians like Tony Blair and Bill Clinton didn’t oppose their own bases outright, because that would have been too obvious. Instead they claimed, in increasingly absurd terms, to be broadly supportive of social democratic goals while all the while chipping away at their institutional and ideological foundations. This was very often done on electoral grounds: i.e. “We have to triangulate to win, and winning is the only way to preserve the things we care about…”.

The result was predictable.

The “Overton Window” – which describes the frame inside which political debate is permitted to play out in mainstream discourse – shifted ever further to the right.

The Clinton camp’s latest line of attack is that pursuing a new healthcare goal- as Sanders wants to do – will be “divisive” and put the Affordable Care Act at risk because the Republicans will resist. The implication is that, even at an early stage in the primary season, the DNC and its base should dilute their aspirations to more or less whatever the right will permit in some unknowable political future. (It’s an especially ironic position, since defenders of the ACA’s inadequacies often claimed it would be a stepping stone to true universality, but I digress…)

If your actual goal is to make life qualitatively better for people – even gradually – conceding your opponents’ arguments before the fight has even begun is not a constructive position: it’s downright reactionary.