Blaming voters for a loss has become a standard establishment tactic, a convenient way to dodge accountability for running out-of-touch, uninspired, status-quo campaigns. Instead of owning up to the failures of their 20th-century liberalism, Democratic leaders shift the blame onto the very people they failed to reach. Their candidate had only three months to build support—and it showed.

But before diving deeper, let’s put this pattern of blaming voters into a historical context. In 1968, after Hubert Humphrey’s loss to Nixon, Democrats blamed anti-war and younger voters who didn’t rally behind Humphrey, frustrated with his loyalty to the Johnson administration’s Vietnam War policies. Instead of recognizing the impact of their own divisive stance on the war, the party scapegoated these groups for its failure to unify.

In 1980, In the wake of Jimmy Carter’s loss to Reagan, Democrats pointed fingers at progressives, blaming liberal voters for being disillusioned with Carter’s policies. Yet the party refused to confront why its own base had grown so alienated.

In the 1994 Midterm, when Republicans swept Congress, Democrats blamed voter apathy and low turnout among their base—mainly Black and brown communities. Rather than facing the fallout of policies like the 1994 crime bill, which led to mass incarceration, or welfare reform, which pushed millions into poverty, the party scapegoated its own neglected supporters.

The truth is, Democrats have only themselves—and perhaps their overpaid campaign strategists—to blame. Joseph Robinette Biden is one of the most unpopular presidents in recent history, and Harris’s platform was a near-mirror image of his. Why replicate a losing formula? Because they’re out of touch, privileged, and convinced they know best.

Yes, Harris made some noise about reproductive freedom, but only by comparison to Biden’s lukewarm stance—there was nothing radically transformative in her vision. Meanwhile, families struggle to make ends meet, the wealth gap widens, and a catastrophic housing crisis leaves hundreds of thousands unhoused while real estate moguls buy up everything in sight.

While communities in Appalachia attempt to rebuild after hurricanes, the Biden-Harris administration sends millions—not to them, but to fund the Israeli war machine that continues to murder, torture, and displace Palestinians, annex land, and entrench apartheid. Genocide alone is reason enough for voters to turn away from this administration. And those of us who grew up in California remember Harris’s punitive policies all too well, like jailing Black parents over school truancy.

Yes, perhaps sexism or racism kept people from voting for her, but she provided plenty of other reasons for voters to look elsewhere. She campaigned as a guardian of the establishment, begging Republicans to support her with Liz Cheney at her side and promising power-sharing to those who actively undermine her core base.

The reality is this: Arab and Muslim communities voting their conscience, Black and Latino men turning to other options, or white people voting to protect their privilege—none of this happens in a vacuum. It’s a response to a Democratic Party that offers no inspiring vision for the future. People are tired of being asked to settle for the same broken promises and status quo. How many times do we have to say it?

Second, this is a pivotal time to consider a new economic order that prioritizes economic equality, social programs, and taxing the damn rich.

As many know, neoliberalism emerged in the late 1970s and 1980s, championed by leaders like Ronald Reagan in the U.S. and Margaret Thatcher in the U.K. in response to the New Deal era and promoting market efficiency and individual freedom, claiming that reduced government intervention would lead to prosperity.

Despite being widely adopted by conservatives and liberals, especially under Bill Clinton in the 1990s, neoliberalism has had severe social and economic consequences, including the erosion of worker protections, weakening labor unions, and limited social programs. Increased economic inequality, wage stagnation, and mitigated social mobility have impacted many American families. As many know firsthand, people feel disconnected from the political process, powerless against corporate interests, and shrinking social protections.

As we lived through the 2000s and 2010s, neoliberalism crashed out —the 2008 exploitative subprime mortgage scam that stole billions of wealth from Black Americans and led to the bailing out of the big banks, all exacerbated income inequality, and the rise of populism, signaling a desire for an alternative to neoliberal policies.

What does this mean? The decline of neoliberalism opens possibilities for a new economic paradigm. A progressive shift has already seen the resurgence of unions, but we also have to prioritize rebuilding the social safety net, true economic justice, and climate action. Our call to action is considering how we tell a salient story about a new economic order prioritizing a working-class politic.

This next thing will sound like cold comfort, but the left needs to do more of what we have been doing more rigorously and on an even more hyper-local level. We must continue criticizing mainstream politics for its performative nature and emphasize the need for fundamental, structural change that disrupts power imbalances. 

The left has to build a big tent, but we also have to outmessage the liberal and progressive forces. True liberation requires profound, uncompromising change for those most impacted by inequality. This is not about polite gestures or maintaining comfort for the powerful but about unapologetically dismantling oppressive systems.  We have to continue to challenge the division and factionalism that weaken movements, calling for a focus on shared economic and social struggles to build power against those benefiting from our oppression.

I hope we all know this by now, but movements fail when they focus more on punishment than progress. We have to disrupt the punitive, fear-based culture of canceling individuals and focus on a commitment to accountability that strengthens the movement by allowing for learning and collective growth.

This means working through our differences, learning from our mistakes, and taking a low-ego/high-impact approach to organizing. We don’t have time to alienate each other over ideological purity tests. Real solidarity means committing to growth, accountability, and shared struggle, not endless gatekeeping.

We have to reject elitism in social justice spaces, calling for a movement built on working people's lived struggles and wisdom, not academic theories and  PR firms. In many of our spaces, elitist gatekeepers have co-opted social justice language to keep power within their circles. Real change won’t come from polished language or academic theories; it will come from the power of the people in the streets and their communities, demanding an end to exploitation and control.

I want to leave you all with a provocation to close.

I first heard the slogan “Turn up on the state, not on each other” at the 2015 Movement for Black Lives convening in Cleveland. It was a necessary reminder to keep our focus on the real enemy—systems of oppression that seek to destroy us—and to resist the distractions of internal conflicts that are weaponized against us by those in power. The state, capitalism, and colonialism are the forces that seek to divide and conquer us, and we must stay clear-eyed about this reality.

We don’t need to agree on every tactic or political intervention, but we must build a united front rooted in solidarity and resistance. The Left is a broad spectrum, with many so-called progressives clinging to establishment power, unwilling to embrace the needed revolutionary transformation. Democrats, who consistently support the genocide of Palestinians and prop up exploitative systems, are complicit in this violence. Yet, for decades, radicals and progressives have had to navigate this uneasy alliance, sometimes working together against a common enemy while knowing the establishment will never truly be on the side of liberation.

A united front is about power—not purity. We must harness every available resource to challenge the state and dismantle its grip on our lives. Our strategies may differ, but that divergence can sometimes push us forward. Unity is not about complete consensus; it’s about a shared commitment to defeating our true oppressors.

Election cycles expose the fractures within the Left as the false binary of neoliberalism and conservatism tries to trap us. But we cannot fall for it. Voting is not liberation. Building a radical democracy is about organizing against the systems that oppress us every day, electing revolutionary leaders from within our communities, and tearing down the structures of capitalism, fascism, and colonialism.

Radical hope thrives in the face of violence and repression. Our strength lies in our recognition of the interconnectedness of our struggles. The narrative we build must advance revolutionary values, dismantle hegemonic power, and disrupt the systems that govern our existence. It’s time to turn up on the state, not on each other.

At this critical juncture, we must heed Antonio Gramsci’s call to reclaim and redefine democracy on our terms. Radical Communicators have a duty to use narrative power as a weapon against the establishment and to push for revolutionary change that transcends the limits of the current political order. This is the moment to reimagine a future beyond the oppressive systems that have held us captive.