Are There Green Shoots of a 'Post-Woke' Left?

In the year since Trump’s reelection, there has been an outpouring of commentary on the confused state of the Democrats but also the disarray of the political left more broadly. One could make the case, as Ruy Teixeira has for TLP, that the modern left, after a brief resurgence in the 2010s following the Great Recession, has hit its nadir due to an excess of cultural radicalism. Another perspective, offered variously by John B. Judis and Jacobin’s Bhaskar Sunkara, counters that despite recent setbacks, the left enjoys more relevance and soft support than it has in several decades.

There is a good case to be made that the bleak prognosis for the American left is overstated. Public trust in political institutions is in free fall in America and across the West, to the presumed benefit of MAGA and “anti-establishment” right-wing populists elsewhere. Yet nearly forty percent of Americans hold a favorable view of socialism—a number that was, ironically, hardly conceivable sixty years ago when Cold War America, though in the birth pangs of its “Second Reconstruction,” was otherwise much more social democratic than it is today. Evidently, more than festering consumer angst over high prices for groceries, concerts, and sporting events is at play here.

In fact, there are indications that the green shoots of a “post-woke” left are already emerging, sometimes far from where the left typically predominates. How this left is construed in the public mind, and whether we can truly deem it as properly of the left in a macro-historical sense, will depend in large part on the ability of insurgents to draw on America’s egalitarian political traditions, in speech and gestures unimpeded by a progressive intelligentsia consumed with America’s sins. Indeed, its ability to flourish will require a studied independence from the repertoire and sectarianism that has characterized the left in the last decade. The central problem for the left as it is presently constituted—or at least the one recognized by friend and foe alike as defining the alternative to right-populism and “zombie neoliberalism”—is that it has heretofore fettered the growth of a flexible oppositional politics, predicated on restoring positive government and the associative power of common people, in the regions the Democrats have abandoned, thus precluding the very realignment in the party system the left professes to seek.

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Before addressing the left’s prospects and challenges, it is worth elaborating on what the left as a force engaged in electoral politics means in the present context. Granting that there is no monolithic left in America (or anywhere really), there are two main factions with considerable overlap that have defined what it means to be on the democratic left and which, when push comes to shove, duly back the Democrats in most elections. To some, these strands might be self-evident or not wholly distinct. People’s beliefs and judgments of effective politics change over time, even when they don’t adopt an entirely different outlook on power, rights, and responsibilities. Still, the fact that these strands have contributed profoundly to how we interpret the possibilities for American politics, while fundamentally failing to prevent the return of what they abhor, merits review.

One strand is the economically populist left, composed primarily of precarious service workers, the new wave of labor activists, and intellectuals and policymakers committed to developing a vision of “post-neoliberal” governance. Some are avowed democratic socialists, some are anti-monopolists, and others are “FDR” Democrats (or “Berniecrats,” as they are sometimes dubbed). All believe American society is in peril unless major reforms to reduce inequality and the influence of the wealthiest are instituted. While often caustic toward the Democratic establishment, most, including a good share of self-styled socialists, are reconciled to working within the party to improve the economic security and life chances of ordinary Americans.

The other tendency is the “intersectional” or identity-driven “neo-progressive” left. This strand draws its strength from the “post-material” social movements sown by the Sixties New Left, academia and nonprofits, and immigrant-heavy community groups who have either subsumed or supplanted the traditional ethnic urban machines of yesteryear. It is also sometimes called the Brahmin left, which usually denotes an upper-middle-class background, although that category can also include college-educated progressives squeezed by the high cost of living. Somewhat confusingly, intersectionality attracts sectarian leftists who essentially believe America is irredeemable as well as confrontational liberals like Rep. Jasmine Crockett and the media personality Jennifer Welch. These days it is this version of the left that seems to most inform how both Democrats and their right-wing adversaries conceive of progressivism. Its “systemic” critique of American moral hypocrisy and structural injustice gained immense purchase among Democratic elites last decade, leading to what critics have called the “Great Awokening”—that is, a far-reaching codification of “woke” values in universities, major corporations, and many government offices between 2017 and 2024, which the Trump administration has since reversed.

That effort to change institutional culture and America’s sociocultural lexicon, pursued through various advocacy groups, highlights the biggest difference with the economically populist left. Both strands participated in the protest actions of the first Resistance, and both concur that regardless of what Trumpism is exactly, its mixture of cronyism, buffoonery, and malevolence is not to be minimized. But whereas the populist left has sought, perhaps quixotically, to find common ground in Trump country—to engage in the politics of persuasion and solidarity—the neo-progressives have, in most cases, eagerly dialed up partisan and neo-sectional sentiment. The latter also tend to believe social change is best obtained through the judiciary over mass politics, despite their seeming predilection for direct action.

In these respects, neo-progressives have made their jaundiced view of past liberalisms conspicuous (e.g., the sweeping conclusion that “the New Deal was racist”). Although neo-progressives are also concerned by economic inequality, its impact is discussed mainly in terms of the racial wealth gap and inequitable health outcomes. Neo-progressives, moreover, are much more supportive of globalization in the realms of trade, immigration, and higher education, their obligatory critiques of neocolonialism and Global South “extractivism” notwithstanding. This is an additional source of friction with the populist left. While hardly reconciled to nativist measures and geopolitics, there are voices on the populist left who increasingly recognize that social democracy can’t work without borders and a compelling alternative to MAGA’s conception of the national interest. (It is worth observing that the secondary importance of universal economic issues to the intersectional left could be due to its relative compatibility with contemporary pop culture, whose main industries aggressively curate and commercialize “difference” and “radical perspectives,” thereby dampening interest in a political vision that might transcend our cultural and regional divides.)

Neither strand, of course, is strong enough to set the Democratic agenda on its own. The leverage of the donor class over the party elite is one obvious factor. Still, this mutual weakness exists partly because the left has even less of a presence than formal Democratic branches do in the regions that Democrats desperately need to win to stay competitive in the Electoral College and the Senate. Ultimately, that obstacle comes down to the lifestyle choices and preferences shared across the left. In practice it is hard to fully distinguish the populist left from the culturalist left and thus identify a politically consequential difference between the two, as a majority of left-wing progressives cluster in big metros, have at least some college education, and share an outlook, like Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, that combines both of these key tendencies (see New York City’s “commie corridor”). (The populist left, if we are to be honest, is also habitually afraid of being accused of trivializing intersectional issues.) In short, the left comprises a regionally concentrated, quarrelsome minority whose influence over the Democratic Party has indisputably deepened but is also in keeping with the demographic sorting between the two major parties that has occurred over the last thirty years.

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Where does that leave the rest of the Democratic coalition? Arguably, the core of the Democratic base is rounded out by voters in cities and suburbs who are, in a sense, less ideological but hold deeper partisan loyalties. They are more likely to identify simply as a Democrat or a “Barack Obama” liberal (and before that, a “John Kerry,” “Bill Clinton,” or “JFK” liberal). These voters may be occasionally persuaded by left-wing economic arguments, particularly when it comes to health care, or they may be more attuned to the concerns of minorities and the politics of representation. Owing to the proliferation of “Resistance” yard signs over the years, they are sometimes considered more adjacent to the neo-progressives. But they are motivated above all by a strong desire to win elections and expect left-wing activists to fall in line. Unsurprisingly, a deep contempt for Trump and his enablers has kept this often-fractious coalition together, although not entirely, given the number of Democratic voters who stayed home in 2024 or defected to the GOP.

With an eye toward the 2026 midterms, Democrats nevertheless recognize something must shift internally to durably expand their appeal. Although few are outspoken about the costs of the “Great Awokening,” a number of elected officials and allied thought leaders have one way or another signaled it curdled the goodwill of moderates and irregular Democrats who once believed government has a responsibility to advance social justice. And it did—at least temporarily. At the same time, the affordability crisis has taken center stage in national politics, somewhat relieving Democrats of the pressure to methodically review and name the factors that most contributed to Trump’s comeback. (It was recently reported that DNC chair Ken Martin has decided not to release a long-awaited autopsy of the 2024 election.) November’s election victories, driven by a return to “kitchen-table” issues, provided a much-needed shot in the arm for loyal rank-and-file Democrats as well as grassroots activists. For all the animus directed at the Democrats’ lethargic congressional leadership, that has cooled talk of an existential crisis or party civil war.

And yet, the recent boost to morale has done little to resolve the Democratic coalition’s divisions over philosophy, strategy, and policy development. Those within the milieu of progressive thought and organizing still struggle to delineate what the American left of the 2020s stands for beyond the usual demands etched on protest placards. Numerous fault lines appear as soon as the discussion turns toward concrete policy ideas that could plausibly enjoy popular support and reunite the left with its historical vehicle, the working class.

Indeed, while the left is said to be united in two big goals—raising taxes on the rich and building a European-style health care system—it can agree on little else. Many who identify with the left are torn over how to responsibly address climate change; of two minds about competition policy and industrial policy; hesitant to explore how too much “red tape” can hurt the disadvantaged; admiring of China’s progress while constantly disputing our own; naïve about the salience of public safety to advancing social reform; and undecided about whether the American working class has been indulged in its habits and allowed to live “unsustainably” for too long or if it has, in fact, been stealthily fleeced and disenfranchised since the Reagan Revolution. More generally, the left seesaws over whether America is in need of “equitable growth,” and thus a grand project of national redevelopment, or if it should stagnate peacefully, somehow reconcile that path with open borders, and relinquish its (much diminished and discredited) global leadership to China. Too often these types of debates stultify the left when it should be honing its vision of governance. They impress upon other Americans that, at the end of the day, the left is concerned with telling people how to think and live instead of helping them get ahead.

More readily understood is what the left is against: the “isms,” supremacists, oppressions, and evils it has catalogued as though Judgment Day is near. Yet the seeming clarity and resonance of this moral message has been steadily diluted by the lack of agreement over what is necessary to make meaningful change, where it is possible to do so, and what should be prioritized first. The left is afflicted, moreover, by the undertow of its own “antisocial” pessimism. Duly punctuated by calls for a better world, the condemnation of contemporary American society and American history is often so sweeping that one gets the feeling all are powerless to make improvements to our political and economic system that might realize the country’s promise. Indeed, that promise, understood by past reform movements as manifesting through the fruitful, if never perfect, synthesis of the principles of human liberty and egalitarian development, is itself contested by radicals who believe its real purpose is to “manufacture consent” for an unjust and unreformable hegemon.

That is a disquieting and rather debilitating frame of mind to hold. It is also a recipe for irrelevance that Zohran Mamdani, who since becoming New York City’s mayor-elect is now the left’s most famous voice after Bernie Sanders and Ocasio-Cortez, wisely discarded in order to connect with younger and irregular voters who normally don’t have time for politics. Mamdani, critics assert, passionately embodies the left’s two major tendencies, a potent mix not for its odds of success but for the likelihood it will further destabilize the Democratic coalition outside deep blue metros. He nevertheless beat a complacent Democratic machine and its proxy, Andrew Cuomo, on a platform of concrete and arguably feasible proposals, not by emphasizing vanguard “wokeness”—a testament, one might say, to “the primacy of reform” even in a seemingly jaded and defeatist era.

Yet, hostage to a suffocating parochialism, some activists are already spinning their wheels over to what extent they should criticize their avatar for his rational attempts to soften the unity of his opponents. It’s an all-too familiar situation reflective of the left’s recrudescent infantilism. The activist left, bullhorn of the marginalized, hungers to enter “the arena” up until the moment its representatives must make decisions conditioned by the constraints and opportunities of actually existing politics—including those determined by the left’s own prior failures and absences. Unchecked, this tendency will sabotage the “left wing of the possible” faster than its sworn antagonists might hope to.

The left’s endless purity politics also blinds it to signs of revolt and reform that are happening in spite of the left’s limited geographic reach and the backlash to wokeness. These developments may not correspond easily to the left’s dominant typology, but they signify that grassroots organizing in the Rust Belt and “flyover country” is not so dormant. In fact, progressive populism and a left-tinted anticorruption politics are percolating in some unlikely places, amplified by local elections in which the insurgent—either a Democrat or a technically nonpartisan candidate backed by Democrats—has scored an upset.

The discontent is all the more notable given the widespread belief the Democratic Party is reviled outside its coastal strongholds and college towns. While the right has mocked this year’s “No Kings” protests as a parade of the grey- and blue-haired, or the geriatric and the woke, there are more than flickers of contempt outside of blue cities toward Republican incumbents and Trump’s various power grabs. From Maine to Iowa to Georgia, struggling families, fed-up independents, and nominally “antipolitical” young people are searching for leverage against local Republican machines that have grown overconfident and nakedly indifferent to the public interest. Although these constituencies might not readily identify as “left-wing” or even “progressive”—most swing district insurgents running for office have positioned themselves as independent Democrats focused on “common sense” solutions—they nevertheless channel the basic traditions of the American left: a spirit and attitude against public and private malfeasance, economic predation, and militarism, and a determination to elevate the commonweal over any conspiracy of privilege.

The emergence this year of these new anti-establishment currents in town halls, campaign rallies, and demonstrations also appears to be largely spontaneous. While these gatherings in red counties might be dismissed as a token opposition, they recall an older, word-of-mouth activism, in contrast to the seasoned activists and third-sector professionals who make up the Brahmin left and have become, through social media, a permanent extra-party fixture of the American political scene. Come next November, it will be fair to say that if there is a blue wave, it won’t be attributable to the media-savvy Resistance but to a tide of organic rage against business as usual.

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By next spring we will have a better sense of whether these fledgling rebellions in redder regions will coalesce into something greater. In the meantime, the left’s dominant factions would do well to admit that this development has little to do with their own efforts to regroup since the 2024 election. Those giddy enough to believe the tide is already turning against MAGA might credit Mamdani’s shrewd transformation from academic agitator to Rooseveltian reformer or the “Fighting Oligarchy Tour” headlined by Sanders and Ocasio-Cortez. But perverse though it may be, the left owes its rescue to year one of Trump’s second term. The reason, to be clear, is not because Trump’s assault on DEI and his draconian deportation strategy have made the pendulum swing decisively in the opposite direction—the broader public is still unconvinced Democrats, their donor networks, and their more left-wing allies have a credible approach to the dominant sociocultural issues. Rather, it is because Trump has plainly not mitigated the affordability crisis and probably won’t or can’t, based on the policies and narrow business interests he is in thrall to. That has given the left a chance to zero in on material questions once more and champion, not snipe at, all who aspire to some version of the American dream.

Whether the left can summon the discipline to make the most of this moment is another matter. Its Brahmin contingent might see the swelling crowds at Graham Platner’s rallies or the chance of electoral upsets in the Corn Belt as peripheral to its presumed center of gravity. Vanguard thinkers and activists might not even regard the pragmatic populists who straddle the Democrats’ progressive wing and “New Dem” wing as evoking anything akin to “the left.” Voter ire over issues like utility rates or local corruption doesn’t map neatly onto the theories in vogue among those obsessed with vanquishing MAGA. But there is no monopoly on the left, nor anything that predetermines how it might evolve and regenerate. In the fight over what it means to build power and solidarity, those who seek to put the country on a new path must choose wisely.