Review of Grace Blakeley, Vulture Capitalism (New York: Atria Books, 2024)

Grace Blakeley, a leftist political commentator, has a new book out titled Vulture Capitalism. Blakeley’s goal with this book is to provide a portrait of how capitalism, particularly its most recent neoliberal variant, operates in the real world. Her main thesis is that capitalism, contrary to the claims of defenders like Milton Friedman, is not characterized by the free actions of relatively equal individual decision-makers. Rather, capitalism in the real world creates a society that is dominated by the interests of the small number of people who control the capital. Blakeley makes a compelling case for this leftist thesis.

Blakeley begins by asking why, since those of us in democratic, capitalist societies are supposed to be free, we so often feel unfree. As she says, “this sense of unfreedom is grounded in the deep disparities of power that exist within capitalist societies, many of which are completely invisible…life under capitalism means life under a system in which decisions about how we work, how we live, and what we buy have already been made by someone else. Life under capitalism means living in a planned economy, while being told you are free.” (p. IX.). Her task in the book is to illustrate the many ways in which our lives are unfree in a capitalist world.

Because of this, “the question we should ask ourselves, then, is not whether planning is possible in a capitalist economy. Instead, we should ask where planning is taking place, how it is being executed, and whose interests it is serving.” (p. X).

Blakeley effectively demonstrates how large corporations plan and exert enormous economic power through investment decisions, employment practices, market dominance, and more. This world we now live in can be summed up as follows: “A world of pervasive corporate power is one characterized by low investment, low productivity, low wages, and high inequality.” (p. XIII).

She also stresses the point, as political philosopher Elizabeth Anderson has recently made so well, that whereas we have democratic freedom in the political realm, at work we are in an unaccountable dictatorship. (In addition to Anderson, this argument has been made by many. See, for instance, work by Robert Dahl, Carole Pateman, and Richard Wolff). I also plan to expand on this point in a future double book review of Elizabeth Anderson’s Hijacked and David Frayne’s The Refusal of Work.

In chapter one Blakeley sets out the key part of her argument, namely that capitalism, in the real world, is defined not by free markets but primarily by corporate power and its intertwining with state power. As she notes, “a corporation with significant market power can make decisions that have far-reaching implications for the lives of its workers, the choices of consumers, and even factors like the direction and rate of innovation, or the health of the planet. And all these decisions are made with little or no democratic accountability.” (p. 13).

As Blakeley recognizes, this goes against the grain of much mainstream economic thinking. “After all, free-market economies aren’t supposed to be defined by big inequalities of power. Corporations are supposed to be restrained by the market mechanism” (p. 15). But in the real world things work differently. Blakeley uses the example of Boeing, a massive corporation whose cost-cutting led to hundreds of deaths, to illustrate how many a large corporation actually operates. She rightly notes that “Boeing’s executives can afford to ignore the short-term pushes and pulls of the market precisely because their firm is so large and well connected—the ability to ignore market signals is precisely what market power is.” (p. 16).

But what about the neoliberal turn? Didn’t the election of Thatcher in the UK, Reagan in the US, and similar leaders elsewhere lead to the shrinking of the public sector? Isn’t this what leading neoliberal thinkers like Friedman and Hayek wanted? In the introduction Blakeley summarizes the Keynes-Hayek debate and how by the 1970s the neoliberals had won. Yet, “we live in societies that are just as tightly regulated, surveilled, and controlled as those of several decades ago.” (p. XI). Why?

Because, in practice, while the neoliberal turn transformed the state (and broader conceptions of politics), it didn’t necessarily shrink the state. This is an important point. In Blakeley’s words, “cutting public services doesn’t create more space for free markets, it simply encourages states to rely more on unaccountable organizations like McKinsey to do their dirty work for them.” (p. 58).  She elaborates later on the same page: “The close links between the public and private sectors seen during the pandemic demonstrate the futility of attempting to draw a stark line between state and corporate power in capitalist societies, especially during crises. Throughout the pandemic, states and firms worked together to augment their power and wealth—and as they did so it became harder to see where the private sector ended and the state began.” (p. 58).

This happened in part because neoliberalism, at its heart, was and is antidemocratic: “The idea was to replace democratic government with technocratic governance—to replace government by the people with rule by technocratic elites.” (p. 35). (There is a huge literature on neoliberalism: a few good starting points can be found in work by Wendy Brown, Quinn Slobodian, David Harvey, and Jamie Peck).

Blakeley uses the example of the US Federal Reserve to show how in contemporary capitalism an undemocratic but supposedly neutral, expert body actually takes actions that serve corporate interests, from quantitative easing to raising interest rates, done largely at the behest of big finance and the broader corporate world. For example, the US Federal Reserve kept interest rates too high for nearly three decades (until the 2008 recession) leading to lower wages for workers and unnecessarily high unemployment rates. In addition, “because the law is so central to the operation of the financial system, financial institutions spend a great deal of time and money lobbying legislators and regulators to influence that system.” (p. 130). 

Blakeley uses many examples, from Google to Amazon to Ford, to provide evidence for her compelling summation—“in the real world, corporate owners and managers have power—power that derives from their control over their workers, their ownership of the physical resources used in the production process, and their close relationships with states. Corporations are a form of despotic private government.” (p. 82).

The example of Greensill Capital in the UK offers another case study of the ways in which large investors exert power over state actors. “The events surrounding the rise and fall of Greensill Capital demonstrate quite clearly that the idea of a fixed boundary between public and private—state and market—has always been a fantasy…the link between the public and private sectors have become so close that it is hard to know where one ends and the other begins.” (p. 157). Again, this echoes arguments from political theorists Sheldon Wolin and Wendy Brown (whose excellent work Blakeley draws on).

One obvious rejoinder to Blakeley would be to ask what alternatives to neoliberal capitalism would look like. After all, the model of centrally planned economies from the twentieth century isn’t exactly enticing. And on this question it will be difficult to fully persuade the skeptics. As Thatcher famously said about capitalism in the 1980s, “there is no alternative.” Thatcher didn’t literally mean there were no alternatives—just that the main alternative to neoliberalism, Communist Bloc central planning, was worse. But Blakeley, and many others on the left, show that there are alternatives. 

Chapter 8 draws on a wide range of local experiments in democratic economic control, from worker-run firms to city government projects like participatory budgeting, to flesh out in some detail what these alternatives might look like. As Blakeley and others on the democratic left like myself argue, these cases of democratic economics stand as real-world counter-examples to the grim choice between Soviet-style central planning and neoliberal capitalism. Contrary to Thatcher and Hayek, we do not have to settle for only those two choices. Thankfully, “the local-level examples of democratic planning outlined [in Chapter 8] provide the foundations on which the shift to a democratic economy will be based. Not only do they show what is possible, they also help to engage and politicize people in a project of collective social transformation.” (p. 240).

To summarize Blakeley, capitalism is not characterized by free markets but by the dominance of capital. The occurs in several ways. First, within the workplace itself, where workers must submit to their superiors as long as they are on the clock. Second, in investment and production decisions made by big corporations and rich private investors. Third, through the complex and widespread interconnections between capital and the state.

Obviously, I think Blakeley’s framing is largely correct, and one finds good elaboration of these points in the work of sociologists Vivek Chibber and Erik Olin Wright, and political theorists Sheldon Wolin, Wendy Brown, and Tom Malleson. But one should also read and engage with the alternative perspectives: read some of the great free market writers, like Friedman, Hayek, Von Mises, Sowell. And judge for yourself. It is a credit to Blakeley’s Vulture Capitalism that it does just this, engaging with prominent exponents of neoliberal capitalism and showing where they go wrong.

A Primer on the Alien Films

For sci-fi fans, and especially for fans of the alien franchise and its signature xenomorph, the introduction of another Alien film is a time of excitement and high hopes. Miles Surrey recently wrote a fun piece at The Ringer arguing that Alien is the best franchise in Hollywood.

This is partly because Alien directors have been given lots of freedom to realize their vision. I would add that the franchise is also great because each film, save for the two Alien vs. Predator movies, is a serious attempt to make a great work of science fiction. Before delving into all seven movies I will go ahead and say that Alien: Romulus is well-done and worth watching in theaters. And yes, spoilers ahead.

We can divide this primer into three sections. The original four films, released between 1979 and 1997, all starring Sigourney Weaver. The two Alien vs. Predator movies, released in the 2000s, and generally not considered part of the official Alien canon. Finally, the three most recent films, which include Ridley Scott’s return to the franchise and the newest release, Alien: Romulus.

The Original Four

Alien. Alien is one of the greatest films ever made. The opening sequence slowly panning through the quiet spaceship, the incredible screenplay and naturalistic dialogue, Ridley Scott’s visualization of every set piece and slow building of tension, the incredible cast, the haunting score, the monstrous life cycle of the xenomorph, conceived by the writers and then realized by H.R. Giger. All of these are masterful. And, wow, the scenes—the space jockey, miles of eggs, and metallic architecture of the derelict ship, Dallas in the dark tunnels of the Nostromo, the Ash twist, the escape shuttle. The chestburster! These are landmarks of science fiction.

Everything about the film is influential and iconic. The used future, which we witness only on the Nostromo, is not a glittering utopia but dirty, grimy. The ship and its crew are gritty, industrial, banged up. These are Space Truckers, not scientists or heroic colonial explorers. They express reluctance about descending to an alien planet, concern for money and working conditions, struggle against an opaque and evil company, all set in a dystopian future that some critics consider a radical critique of capitalism.

The cast is amazing—witness the tension between Ash and Ripley, or between mechanical workers Parker and Brett versus the rest of the crew. Consider the tired leadership of Dallas or the inclusion of Jones, the ship’s cat. What else can I say that hasn’t already been said? This is a film of slow, beautiful terror. It is a futuristic dream twisted into an exquisite nightmare.

Aliens. Why is Aliens so great? Simply put, it’s a perfect sequel because it is a distinct movie from the original. Sequels are often inferior for many reasons, including the obvious fact that they frequently have no reason for existing other than profit. But another important point is that most sequels just redo the first movie but with a bigger budget. Aliens, however, is not Alien 2, if by that we mean simply a rehashing of Alien. Director James Cameron, fresh off the first Terminator movie, rightly centers Ripley as the main character. But he takes a sci-fi horror concept and transfers it to a sci-fi action movie. The tagline, “This Time It’s War,” is right. And Cameron, at the height of his powers, executes it perfectly. As with Alien, what can I say that hasn’t already been said? The characters, acting, writing, intense action set pieces, score. It’s all great. The movie has an ebb and flow where it builds up to manic sequences and then draws down again as characters (and the audience) regroup. Watch things rapidly spin out control during the first marine encounter with the xenomorphs.

It is blistering, addictive, exhausting. Cameron said the movie is forty miles of bad road. There are so many amazing characters (Hicks, Hudson, Vasquez, Apone, Bishop, Newt, even brief characters like Frost and Ferro are memorable. You can rattle off a dozen instantly recognizable names). There are so many great lines--game over, man! And don’t forget the queen alien, the Vietnam allusions, the continued role that corporate malfeasance plays, even if the overall critique is less radical than in Alien. Watch this movie!

Alien 3. The movie is obviously flawed and audiences and critics were understandably very disappointed at the time of its release. Why? For one, expectations were sky high after two of the greatest sci-fi films ever made. But it wasn’t just a matter of impossible expectations. The film’s story is not very likable, most of the prisoners, with the exception of Charles S. Dutton’s character, seem like disposable canon fodder, and the movie (spoiler alert) kills off all the key, beloved characters from the previous two films. How’s that for a start? The movie’s bleak, almost nihilistic tone can’t help but drag you down. Yet, with time and the success of David Fincher’s later films, many people (me included) have been willing to revisit Alien 3 and appreciate the things it does well. No, it is not a masterpiece on par with the first two. But it is a film that has some strengths. The atmospherics are genuinely creepy, Sigourney Weaver is wonderful once again as Ripley, the lack of weapons and advanced technology was a nice way for the story to distinguish itself from Aliens, and the four-legged dog (or ox) alien gives another little twist to our favorite monster. As I will keep mentioning, every movie in the franchise brings a few new things for audiences to savor.

Alien: Resurrection. This movie, which features a cloned Ripley two hundred years after Alien 3, is not any better than its predecessor. In fact, it is a bit worse. But with lowered expectations (no one was expecting a masterpiece, just two hours of entertainment) it easily delivered. The cast of characters doesn’t have anyone as memorable as Charles S. Dutton’s Dillon from Alien 3 but probably has a few more decent characters, played by (especially) Ron Perlman and Winona Ryder. The whole pirate crew led by Michael Wincott’s character is reasonably entertaining. What can we say? The movie has some gruesome additions, like the horrifying Ripley clones seen halfway through the movie and the unsettling newborn in the film’s finale. At the same time, the tone of the film flits between somber and camp, with close-ups on smirking actor’s faces and quippy lines from the Joss Whedon script. Add in a bit too much slimy xenomorphs running around on two legs like space velociraptors and you have the weakest of the four original films. That said, it is filled with cool ideas, visuals, and some savvy action sequences (underwater aliens, anyone?) and remains far superior to the next two features. A weird contribution, worth watching.

The two Alien vs Predator Movies

These two films are the only time the franchise has turned to mindless slasher fare. Although even here they can be fun if you like watching xenomorphs run around on screen for two hours.

Alien vs. Predator. After Dark Horse comics and spin-off novels brought the iconic xenomorph and predator together it was only natural that there would be some interest in turning these ideas into cinema. This movie, which involves explorers in an underground arctic pyramid, is no masterwork, but it does have some cool effects. The Alien-Predator fight scenes can be genuinely entertaining, it’s fun to see Lance Henriksen again, and the overall effect is tolerably entertaining. But the film has a PG-13 rating, leading to a lot of euphemistic violence, and there’s only so much that can be said about a silly concept like this. 

Aliens vs. Predator: Requiem. Here I differ from the consensus. I actually think this is the better of the two AVP movies. First off, it’s rated R, the only appropriate rating for a series built around gore and body horror. Second, although it is visually too dark, the movie is set on earth (in a Colorado town) and it is a new twist to see police, waiters, high schoolers, and others contend with the creatures. Plus the Predalien is a cool addition. Overall, these movies are, by far, last on any list of Alien films and only of interest to those who love watching xenomorphs wreak havoc on screen (like yours truly).

The Three Latest 

The latest three Alien movies mark a return to attempts to make good sci-fi films.

Prometheus. Released in 2012, Prometheus was greeted with huge anticipation. It was the first serious alien movie in 15 years (since Alien: Resurrection in 1997, and that movie wasn’t that serious, as mentioned above). To its credit, Prometheus is filled with ambition, stunning images, and great concepts. At the same time it has some glaring flaws. Is it, then, a flawed masterpiece? Here are some of the obvious flaws that frustrated many fans—the stupid decisions made by key characters, some parts of the script (“I’m a human being. You’re a robot.”), obfuscating elements of the story, abrupt changes in tone. For instance, why didn’t Prometheus tie more directly into the original Alien film? Why introduce the black goo and what, exactly, does it do? Or, say, the tension building up brilliantly and culminating in Elizabeth Shaw’s emergency C-Section, only to be dissipated moments later as she wanders into a room of uninterested crew members and discovers that Weyland is still alive. 

Fan reception to Prometheus wasn’t so much mixed as divisive—many people hated it while others saw it as a misunderstood masterpiece. I recognize the truth to both perspectives although I lean more toward the second. I would not, however, go quite so far as to call it a masterpiece. But Ridley Scott is a visual genius and many of the scenes are truly striking. The opening sequence is masterful, not to mention David tinkering with galactic mapping holograms in the engineer ship pilot room, or the gut-wrenching Elizabeth Shaw surgery scene. I can watch Prometheus fully aware of the flaws while loving much of the film. Noomi Rapace is great as Shaw and Michael Fassbender’s David is a wonderful android addition, elaborated on in Covenant.

Alien: Covenant: This movie, released five years after Prometheus, has a number of cool elements while also being stuck between two competing imperatives—Prometheus sequel or Alien prequel? The good: the bloodburster* sequence is nauseating and terrifying as you lurch through the cramped corridors of the lander with a panicking Amy Siemetz (I watched this scene in the front row, yikes!). Michael Fassbender as the dutiful Walter and the menacing David is a delight, so is Danny McBride’s Tennessee. David, indeed, emerges as the most unique character in these two Ridley Scot prequels and one of the best characters in the franchise. He is altogether something new. Not one of the caring androids who protect us, like Walter and Bishop, nor is he an android secretly carrying out the company’s vile directives, as Ash did in the first film. When we meet David in Prometheus he is attempting to fulfill Weyland’s wishes but with considerable discretion. He mostly seems to be acting on his own whims and makes it clear that he doesn’t value his creator’s life. In Covenant we find him as the mad scientist, experimenting with black goo and various xenomorph creations. The fact that he is a fundamentally independent actor, obeying no directives but his own, and an amoral but deeply inquisitive and creative mad scientist, makes him endlessly fascinating. If we ever get a sequel to Covenant most of us agree that David would be its star. Ultimately, Alien: Covenant struggles between being Prometheus 2 and a standalone Alien prequel. There are compelling ideas, and compelling action sequences, but the two never sit quite right together, leading to unsatisfying and abrupt changes in tone and feel.

Alien: Romulus. The latest Alien film, which came out earlier this month, is directed by Uruguayan Fede Álvarez, who previously directed Don’t Breathe and the 2013 Evil Dead reboot, both solid horror films. What’s the deal with Romulus? It is set between Alien and Aliens and more so than the other sequels it is an attempt to capture the raw, gritty feel of the first two films, especially Alien. Although it doesn’t have one singular distinctive piece of body horror like the previous two films, Alien: Romulus is overall very well done. The opening sequence, the practical effects, the grimy settings, the relatively unknown cast, are all strong. The fact that the film takes place almost entirely in spaceships, rather than primarily on alien planets like the previous two films, is a wise choice. And the early stretch of the film set on a colony, in a nod to Aliens, is well-realized and compelling. 

What else is there to like? There are plenty of easter eggs and bits of fan service but more than anything it is simply a well-made, entertaining sci-fi horror film. The wild, scrambling facehuggers are terrifying, the first xenomorph emerging is an awesome scene, and the final sequence is scary and unsettling. (Let’s just say I wanted that final creature defeated asap). As I mentioned, the cast is good: Cailee Spaeny makes for a strong lead and David Jonnson plays a scene-stealing android. Indeed, Jonnson’s character, named Andy, provides another example demonstrating how the alien movies are about a number of non-human entities, very much including androids, who frequently turn out to be some of the most interesting and challenging characters.

*Confused about terms like chestburster, bloodburster, queen, dog alien, neomorph, and so on? After nine films there is a considerable taxonomy of xenomorph and xenomorph-adjacent creatures. I won't go into more detail here.

Subtle Forms of Class Bias

I’ve been thinking about the influence not just of the top 1% but of the broader professional classes and how their perspectives and preoccupations dominate and shape popular culture and dialogue. 

For instance, let’s think about travel. Anyone who grew up in a house that was even slightly left of center likely grew up with a negative view of those who drove “gas-guzzling” trucks and SUVs. These judgments were and are common in well-off suburbs and urban neighborhoods, places where one is likely to see a variety of electric and hybrid vehicles. At the same time, this critical judgment is almost comical given the fact that air travel, which has an enormous carbon footprint, is entirely the province of the better off. Here’s a simple schematic reality check: the poor don’t fly at all. The middle classes fly occasionally for vacation. The professional classes and the rich fly regularly for both business and pleasure. 

And yet until recently there was very little awareness or public attention payed in influential venues to the carbon footprint of air travel. This is not an accident. It very clearly reflects the class bias of the professional class doing all the traveling, a professional class which incidentally is increasingly the base of the Democratic Party and the source of influential liberal commentators. Here I want to consider a few ways in which this is not a positive development.

Who are in the professional class? The professional classes refers broadly to the top quarter of so of Americans who have at least bachelor’s degrees (many have graduate degrees as well) and have secure, well-compensated jobs as doctors, lawyers, realtors, a wide range of corporate figures, consultants, journalists, tenured professors, and so on. (Richard Reeves’ Dream Hoarders offers a damning critique of the disproportionate influence of the professional classes).

The simple truth here is that to be green, the professional classes would have to travel much, much less and when they do they would have to take Greyhound or carpool. Because there is one green way to travel—mass ground transportation  But good luck with that. Anyone who has actually taken a Greyhound bus long distance in the US knows that its clientele and its bus stations look absolutely nothing like the airport crowd and infrastructure. Bus travel, especially long distance bus travel, is the transportation mode of the poor. But the professional classes will no more give up on their constant air travel than rural conservatives will stop driving pick-up trucks. Both groups do what they want, the first merely pays lip service to sustainability. The popular exoneration of the professional class mode of transit and the condemnation of the more rural, red-state mode of transit is an example of professional class bias.

(Now one could argue that the scope of climate change, deforestation, and extinction—the broad ecological issues of our time—are so enormous that individual behaviors do not matter, for they are merely a drop in the bucket. But to adopt this perspective one must adopt what comes with it—a refusal to judge the individual behaviors of red state citizens as well. You can either condemn or absolve ecologically damaging individual acts, not pick and choose based on personal preference.)

Some of these behaviors are so ingrained that it is hard to imagine a cultural change. International travel is a key lifestyle of the professional classes. The same households and cultural sites that condemn gas-guzzling cars will celebrate, even pressure, their members to fly around the world. Can you imagine, for instance, a tenured professor at a a major research university who doesn’t fly overseas regularly for both professional activities and vacations? I can’t. Such travel is a signifier of identity (sophistication, worldliness, et al.)  among the educated professionals. 

I originally considered naming this blog post “Yes, Liberal Hypocrisy is a Problem.” That is both too incendiary and not the right way to frame the problem. As with so many issues, it is a matter of class. 

There is a broader class cluelessness embodied in the professional classes and, as they have shifted heavily into the Democratic Party in recent decades, it is clearly reflected within the framing of the mainstream Democratic Party and its most prominent voices. We see this play out in liberal efforts to tax soda at a higher rate because of the harmful effects that heavy sugar consumption has on kids. These problems are real and need to be addressed. But as Bernie Sanders has pointed out, such efforts reflect a serious class bias. The professional classes drink much less soda than the working classes and the poor but they do drink coffee. And not just the healthy kind but Frappuccinos, macchiatos, and other sugary drinks that are more milkshake than coffee. Where are the proposed taxes on these unhealthy consumption habits of the rich? 

As a graduate student in Irvine, California you could walk into any Starbucks and find dozens of teens, from middle school through high school, lining up to drink the most sugary, unhealthy treats imaginable. Yes, this is an anecdote, but one that reflects basic sociological truths about class in America. The professional classes, however, are not going to vote for candidates who will raises taxes on their preferred drinks. But the soda of the poor? By all means, tax away.

Or consider a little remarked on habit during the height of the Covid pandemic from 2020-2021. Many conservatives refused to wear masks and also criticized mask mandates but when the CDC cautioned against traveling and gathering with family for the holidays in 2020 and 2021, this recommendation was largely ignored by liberals. (I can count on one hand the number of people I know who refused to travel during the pandemic to reduce the spread of Covid). 

Some of this is admittedly impressionistic but there are important truths here. The Democratic Party has increasingly become a party of well-off professional class members and it reflects their class biases. The corollary to this is that the Republican Party has made inroads among working class voters, including blacks and latinos. We are seeing this dynamic in the 2024 Presidential election as the Republican Party makes a serious effort to woo non-college educated voters of color. For more information on this dynamic, see, of course, Thomas Frank’s Listen, Liberal for the definitive indictment on this count. Matt Karp has also written several extensive pieces on this phenomena for Jacobin. A somewhat comical example of how out of touch wealthy liberals can be is found in the New York Times advice column, The Ethicist, powerfully critiqued here. 

Consider this recent evidence: the top 10% of income earners cast more votes for Clinton than Trump in 2016 and did the same for Biden in 2020. These were likely the first two times that this has happened in the past century, due to the simple fact that the wealthy used to be overwhelmingly Republican. While the top 1%, and especially the smaller number of oligarchs within that 1%, may continue to be ultra-conservative, as we move into the top 10% and top 20% we encounter a professional class of Americans that is now heavily Democratic, well-off, and relatively powerful. They are also far removed from the bottom half of the income distribution. This is a new and deeply significant development. The Democratic Party, and the general liberal-left spectrum of American politics, used to be much more rooted in labor unions and the working class, whose life experiences are increasingly alien and incomprehensible to this new professional class base.

Why does this matter? Professional class voters may be liberal Democrats on some issues but they are also more focused on symbolic change. (See Fredrik de Boer’s criticism along these lines in How Elites Ate the Social Justice Movement). In addition, condescension, cluelessness about ordinary life, and hypocrisy matter because they reduce the ability of the Democratic Party and its supporters to persuade people to change their minds and behaviors, join important movements, and vote for candidates and issues. A party of condescending, wealthy elites talking down to ordinary Americans is a great recipe for losing popular support, failing to persuade, and ultimately losing elections. It yields weak candidates like Hilary Clinton in 2016 and Joe Biden in 2024 partly because party elites, and the professional class base that votes in primary elections, are insulated from the widely felt unpopularity of these figures. (This recent piece in Current Affairs paints a damning portrait of condescending and clueless Democratic Party elites).

To return to the opening point, class bias blinds people to hypocrisy. Professional class Democrats condemn certain (supposedly) unsophisticated red state behaviors as unsustainable while living in ways that themselves are almost comically bad for the environment. Focusing on hypocrisy doesn’t mean certain arguments are wrong. We should be more green in our personal lives as well as in our collective policy decisions. But glaring hypocrisy matters. It turns people off and it screams of condescension. It’s hard to convince someone that they shouldn’t smoke while your cigarette blows smoke in their face.

A Quick Sketch on Some Differences Between the Left and the Center Left

Let me try to state my problem with books like White Rural Rage and the perspective they exemplify. (Nathan Robinson has a good review of the book here and here is another critique from Ryan Zickgraf). Working through such arguments helps to illustrate differences between those on the center-left, including establishment Democrats and even liberals, and those further to the left, such as democratic socialists and left populists.

Here is an overly simple typology to help explain the difference between the center-left (basically the mainstream Democratic Party) and the left:

Center-Left: the main problem in America is Republicans (or conservatives)

Left: the main problem in America is capitalism (or neoliberalism) and empire 

Now in part this simply reflects differences in values. The left critique is more systemic because  those on the left want much more systematic change, whereas those on the center-left basically want Democrats to run things and pass mildly liberal laws. Thus, for Democrats, if they have power, say in a state like Connecticut or a city like New York, well, problem solved. The left, on the contrary, sees Democratic run cities and states as still having massive, structural problems that the Democratic Party is unwilling and unable to resolve. 

Just because the right is usually wrong doesn’t mean the Democrats are correct. America’s cities look nothing like Republican caricatures of them but they do have enormous, unresolved problems and injustices, these just look very different from the claims of the right.

In so far as the center-left has different values and desires from the left you can’t simply say they are “wrong”. After all, they have identified the problem for them—Republican voters and the Republican Party.

But I do think that this is wrong, or misguided, in three key ways, and helps to explain why we should be on the left, not the center-left. 

First, blaming large swathes of voters is strategically stupid. If you want to win over citizens to your perspective, so that they will embrace your values, vote for your party and referenda, and join your organizations, you don’t shit on them and dismiss them as racists, deplorables, rednecks, backward, etc. 

Yes, there are people who have vile racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, etc. views. But many don’t. Many people are persuadable, undecided, simply sit out elections, etc. They aren’t defined by bigotry and can be persuaded (see those who voted Obama, Trump, then Biden). And even those with vile views can change their minds. We should be trying to do this. Changing people’s minds is a fundamental part of democratic politics!

Bernie Sanders embodies this perfectly. He walks into an auditorium at, say Liberty University, recognizes the differences he has with many of the students, and tries to persuade them. To reiterate, this is what politics is all about! 

So, it’s strategically stupid to dismiss millions of citizens as the problem and has made the Democratic Party non-competitive and basically non-existent in many rural and small town areas of the country. Write them off and reap the reward.

Second, it’s not an accurate depiction of how people are. Attitudes aren’t fixed, they change over time and over generations, both among individuals and across society at large. Witness how in a single generation a large majority of Americans went from opposing same-sex marriage to supporting it, to the point now that it is practically mundane in America, 20 years after it was weaponized to turn out conservative voters in 2004. Witness changing attitudes on race, gender relations, etc. These are not fixed. People’s attitudes do change, so writing them off as fixed is simply inaccurate. It is also politically myopic, because going back to the first point, a major part of politics is trying to persuade people to join you and to change what is possible. (Witness another simple example, as Americans have become more pro-choice in the aftermath of Roe v. Wade being overturned).

Third, it fails to understand the nature of power in America. America is not run by middle class rural whites. Yes, voters matter in a representative democracy, even one as oligarchic as ours. Still, the fact, as political sociologists, scholars of American politics, political theorists, and ordinary citizens all agree on, is that our country is more or less run by a ruling class of political and economic elites. Blaming ordinary voters just doesn’t really get at the problem. The Bernie perspective, which blames the 1%, the corporate oligarchs, and the structures of neoliberal capitalism, is correct as an explanation and touching back on the first two points, more likely to yield fruit, since this perspective can persuade people to join us, change their attitudes, and thus hopefully build a large majority to change the system.