The following article, “An American Civic Renaissance: Inside the Fight to Revive the Democratic Party” by Conor Webb is cross-posted from Yale’s The Politic:
When polls closed at 9:00 PM on November 5th, 2024, there was hope in New York City’s suburbs. Former Congressman Mondaire Jones (D-NY17), a progressive reformer, had run to retake the seat he occupied from 2019 to 2021.
The race was a nail-biter. Over 25 million dollars were spent, making it one of the most expensive Congressional races in American history. But Jones came up short of incumbent Congressman Mike Lawler (R-NY) by just 23,946 votes out of nearly 380,000 cast.
“Vindication” is how Jones described election night.
“I was feeling a vindication in my belief that the district had changed from where it was in 2020. Now, of course, the district itself was not the same district in terms of the contours of the geography, but you can recreate how the district would have performed in 2020 quite easily. And what we saw in [the 2024] election is a double-digit shift towards the former president of the United States, now the current president of the United States, Donald Trump.”
This phenomenon, colloquially called the “red shift,” occurred across the country, not only the affluent suburbs Jones aimed to represent. Though the 2024 presidential election was far from a landslide, it was a decisive victory for Trump and the Republican Party. For the first time since 2004, a Republican candidate won the national popular vote, bruising the morale of Democratic organizers across the country.
Yale College Democrats President Christian Thomas ‘26 and his team knocked on doors for Jones in October. Thomas held out hope for Jones—and for Democrats across the country—until the end.
“I held on until the very last minute. I went home. My friends were hosting a watch party, and everyone there was in despair. And I was like, ‘Guys, it’s not over yet. We’ve only counted 20 percent of the votes in Phoenix. Once we get to 100% of the votes in Phoenix, then I can consider us perhaps not winning,’” Thomas recalled.
The next day, Thomas’ emotions took over.
“There’s a moment that is true for a lot of organizers that is just like, ‘damn. That was a lot of work that so many put in, that I also put into this.’ For an hour, I was like, ‘Was any of that worth it? Were any of those three-hour-long drives to Scranton [to knock on doors for Democratic candidates] worth it?’”
While Democrats like Thomas felt uncertainty when Trump was first elected in 2016, they weren’t hopeless. They mobilized to counter his administration. The Women’s March made national news just a day after his inauguration in 2017 by protesting his policies and rhetoric. It was the largest single-day protest in American history. Between 3.2 and 5.2 million people in the United States participated. Intrepid organizers formed grassroots organizations like Indivisible to combat Trumpism.
It is no longer 2016. The fierce resistance that followed Trump’s first election has faded. In its place, the quiet resignation has settled in. The Democratic coalition now wrestles with a painful political identity crisis.
Sam Rosenfeld, Associate Professor of Political Science at Colgate University and recent author of The Hollow Parties: The Many Pasts and Disordered Present of American Party Politics, argues Democrats need to examine the coalitional disconnect between the ideological priorities of the party and those of rank-and-file Democrats.
Since 2016, Rosenfeld said, Democrats have bled support down the income and education ladder. “In 2016, [the erosion] was about white voters outside the South who are non-college-educated, who Democrats used to do decently with. And then they lost ground.”
Today, however, Democrats lose ground on non-college-educated voters across age, racial, and ethnic categories. “That’s a huge problem. That’s a huge problem in terms of who’s in the electorate. And it’s a particular problem for Democrats existentially, in terms of a party that is committed to a vision of economic policy and political economy that is egalitarian and redistributive,” Rosenfeld noted.
This collapse is nothing short of catastrophic for Democrats electorally. In 2012, former President Barack Obama won voters making between $30,000 and $49,999 with 57 percent of the vote. In 2024, Trump won that income bracket 53 to 45. If Democrats are losing the very voters their policies are designed to help, it will become increasingly difficult for them to build winning coalitions.
But it’s not irreversible. Rosenfeld sees a chance to rebuild the Democratic Party and ignite a new generation of bold, unwavering advocates. Rosenfeld argued, “you have to think creatively about trying to rebuild a kind of civic and social and organizational life out there.”
“That could include and encompass ordinary working people in spaces that would habituate them to think it’s normal to vote for Democrats like there used to be,” said Rosenfeld. Several key stakeholders in the Democratic Party—academics, national political leaders like Mondaire Jones, analysts, and organizers—agree with Rosenfeld.
They have a vision for a Democratic Party that can rekindle its once-collective purpose and rise boldly against Trump-era disillusionment, a plan involving relational organizing, institutional reform, and truthfulness. The stakes couldn’t be higher.
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Relational organizing might be the future of the Democratic Party.
On Saturday, November 2nd, just three days before Election Day, former Vice President Kamala Harris’ presidential campaign knocked on over 1.2 million doors in Pennsylvania, Wisconsin, and Michigan. The sheer organizing power of the Harris-Walz campaign gave the appearance of unstoppable momentum.
Yet Rosenfeld was skeptical. “I and others have had [suspicions] about parachuting in armies of idealistic, absolutely admirable volunteer canvassers from out of state to go around knocking on doors a million times.”
Rosenfeld called it a “costly way of trying to eke out votes.”
“It may not be effective at all. The scholarship has always said that leveraging people who are in those communities themselves, who are your neighbors or your friends or people you know, has just way more bang for your buck than professionals,” said Rosenfeld. This strategy is known as relational organizing, the practice of building political trust through entrenched personal relationships over long periods of time. Instead of dedicating large sums of campaign cash to temporary brigades of volunteers to battleground states, relational organizing aims to maintain those relationships over time.
Jack Dozier ‘27 is from rural Virginia and researches youth voter priorities with the Yale Youth Poll. Dozier spent three months as a regional organizer with the Virginia Coordinated Campaign—a joint effort spearheaded by the DNC, the Harris-Walz campaign, and the Virginia Democratic Party—and has seen firsthand the impact of relational organizing in his battleground home state. “Relational organizing is such an incredible program. It still has a way to go, but it’s reintroducing the idea of having conversations,” he said.
“When you’re an undecided young voter and you talk about the election with a trusted family member, with a close friend, with a family friend, that’ll have more of an impact on your decision-making than what some celebrity posts on Twitter,” Dozier noted.
Dozier named apps like Reach, a progressive organizing app piloted by Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (D-NY) and her insurgent Congressional primary challenge in 2018, which helps campaigns and activists engage voters and supporters in real time through relational and grassroots organizing.
Relational organizing strategies, including bolstered campaign infrastructure and offices open to staff and (importantly) the broader public, tend to become more effective with sustained, year-round implementation. Dozier said that while year-round infrastructure is difficult, he found it more difficult to logistically set up new campaigns every other year. “As someone who helped open the office that I worked in, I spent more days in my first month of employment buying office supplies than actually talking with community members. Oh, my God, it was so hard to buy a stapler.”
Dozier added that when campaigns end, “the office lease goes up, the locks get changed, and all the furniture goes wherever it ends up.” Had the resources been present already, Dozier could have established more entrenched relationships with the community where he worked. Dozier covered nearly 1,500 square miles of territory, so the extra time spent building relationships with voters would have made an extraordinary impact. It’s for this reason that he calls relational organizing “the future of our modern politics.”
“As an organizer, I [have noticed] fewer people opening the doors and responding to text-bank texts. There’s a lot to be said about that. The methods that have won [young people] for years and years aren’t working as well anymore. There’s a route to find more trust, and that comes locally [in relational organizing].”
This recent decline in engagement is partly due to oversaturation—voters are inundated with campaign messages across platforms—and a generational shift in communication habits. Young people are also less likely to answer calls or respond to texts from unknown numbers than previous generations.
Relational organizing, applied to the conventional methods of voter outreach, offers a trusted, local alternative to cut through the noise. It is about elevating endorsements that carry weight within communities where trust and familiarity matter most. Dozier argued that small-scale endorsements, rather than the celebrity endorsements extolled by the Harris-Walz campaign, are intertwined with the project of relational organizing.
Dozier said, “celebrity endorsements are going to reach who they’re going to reach, but they might not have as much of a sway as we’ve thought they did. If your local paper, if your member of the Board of Supervisors, if your school board member is endorsing these national candidates, I think there’s a lot more trust.”
This stands in stark contrast to the Harris campaign’s strategy in 2024.
“One of the first celebrity endorsements of Harris was Charli XCX. A young person might say, ‘oh my gosh, that’s so exciting, Charli did this song [like the popular album “Brat” on which Harris branded her campaign].’ But there’s not complete trust of any given celebrity. It’s time to move even further into relational organizing, because that’s where you can make a real, tangible, and seeable difference,” Dozier remarked.
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To repair the Democratic Party, the broader American political landscape may need reform.
Mondaire Jones shares Sam Rosenfeld’s observation about the disconnect between the ideology of the Democratic Party and the voters it purports to represent, but he takes the quandary one step further.
“It is untenable that a majority of working class people would not be voting for Democratic candidates as we seek to carry the mantle of the working class economic agenda,” said Jones. His solution: the party “needs to lean into an economic populism in order for us to regain the trust of the American people, particularly working class people we say we are running to represent,” requiring institutional changes that go beyond an increased emphasis on relational organizing.
This economic populism might take shape by the party changing the way it markets the pro-labor policies most Democrats already endorse. Democrats were criticized in the wake of Harris’ loss for overusing technocratic policy rhetoric. Shifting toward language that resonates with working class voters might align the policy—bolstering unions, raising the minimum wage, and cracking down on corporate monopolies that stifle competition and drive up the cost of living—with the politics to garner votes.