Elections do not tell us very much in the normal course of events. The wins and losses of American parties hinge on a variety of shockingly ephemeral factors: candidate quality, the state of the economy, national mood, etc. The result is that most elections amount to a response to a temporary set of circumstances that no more reveal true shifts in the popular mood of the nation than an hour scrolling X. Every now and then, however, an election tells us something more about the future of the country—revealing a seismic political shift that shakes the foundations of the party system. After a long series of supposedly consequential elections, the 2024 presidential contest finally lived up to that elusive title. The resounding victory of the once (and now future) President Donald Trump over Vice-President Kamala Harris has shattered much of what experts profess to know about American politics. The jubilance of the Republicans at the results is matched by unvarnished despair among Democrats who, it transpires, have a much weaker grasp on shifting political winds than they thought.

　　The across-the-board loss of the House, Senate, and Presidency further drives home the fact that the American left’s turn toward identity politics has undercut the political foundations of American progressivism. Where the left goes from here remains one of the most pressing questions to emerge from the chaos of the last month.

　　To understand the future of the left, or more precisely, the progressive movement, we have to first understand its recent history. Like almost all of modern American politics, that history begins with the presidency of Franklin D. Roosevelt. Elected to deal with the nation’s greatest economic crisis, Roosevelt argued that the Great Depression emerged not just from the typical vagaries of a free-market system but instead from the concentration of economic power in the hands of a wealthy few. To resolve this crisis, Roosevelt proposed a remaking of the American constitutional order—to create a new system of checks and balances that allows the government to restrain economic authority. This idea led to Roosevelt’s concept of a “Second Bill of Rights.” Never enshrined as formal law, it was the way he made the case that the nation must dedicate itself to securing healthcare, housing, jobs, and so on for all Americans. Only with such provisions, he believed, could anyone be meaningfully free.

　　Like most alterations to America’s constitutional tradition, the New Deal incited immense controversy. Despite this, President Eisenhower’s early surrender to its popularity gave a fair idea of its consolidation. Though many have since sought to dismantle Roosevelt’s reframing of American politics, few have succeeded and it is doubtful anyone ever will. The best demonstration that the New Deal is now simply part of America’s political architecture lay in its supposed greatest challenge—Reaganism. An honest appraisal of the Reagan presidency reveals that not one time in his whole presidency did he truly challenge the premise of the New Deal. Reagonomics—for all its theoretical radicalism—merely corrected the worst excesses of the New Deal order: de-regulating parts of the economy, cutting taxes, but essentially leaving the social safety net in place. This altered form of the New Deal soon became part of the American political gospel when Democrat Bill Clinton declared to the nation that “the era of big government is over.”

　　Yet the greatest triumph of New Deal liberalism came with Trump’s election to the presidency in 2016. Though Trump maintained a Reaganesque penchant for tax cuts and de-regulation, he has continually pledged Republican support for social security, Medicaid, and some form of government-ensured healthcare.

　　Fifty some years ago, before parties divided upon purely ideological lines, Democrats had a vibrant conservative and liberal wing. Such a revival seems possible once again.

　　In theory, progressives should rejoice at the triumph of the New Deal. For decades they campaigned on the premise that, unlike conservatives, they believed the government had a role to play in providing economic security for all Americans. This one factor served as the foundation of all Democratic Party rhetoric. It alone drew millions of working and middle-class voters into the partys fold. Over the years, an increasingly populist right has accepted the most popular elements of the New Deal and in the process, has stolen the working-class thunder. Floundering for a new message, progressives have slowly adopted a mixed assortment of activist causes that over time came to be called identity politics—an emphasis on the paramount importance of questions of race, gender, sexuality, and so on. A perhaps unintended consequence of this shift is that wealthy and well-educated voters flocked to the Democratic Party’s new message and in the process changed the party even more. In short, the progressive movement is now defined by a set of characteristics that please large swaths of corporate America but alienate increasingly large numbers of Americans.

　　Last months results of the progressive movement’s evolution were displayed to the world—a crushing defeat at the hands of an unpopular Republican nominee, the loss of the Senate, and, perhaps most shockingly, the mass exodus of working-class voters across ethnic lines. Faced with such circumstances, the left must figure out the future for themselves and there are several different paths they may take.

　　First, if the identity-left continues to hold sway, it may further cede working-class issues, and therefore continue on the path to irrelevance for average Americans. In other words, the Democratic Party may follow in the footsteps of the American Whig Party—both of whom have displayed an impressive talent for caring more about being “right” on the issues than about winning elections. Many would prefer simply to lay the loss of the 2024 election at the feet of a “deplorable” public rather than learn meaningful lessons.

　　Another possibility would be a return to those aspects of the New Deal that have yet to be achieved, working to incorporate those ideas into a political narrative purged both of identity politics and coastal elitism. Practically speaking, this means that liberals would focus their attention less on the rights of various groups and more on ensuring that poverty is accompanied by as few hardships as possible. This means promoting better education, tackling the cost of prescription drugs and other healthcare issues, and addressing the exodus of jobs from middle America.

　　On a more conceptual level, it would mean thinking seriously about what “equity” and “equality” really mean. In recent years, liberals have embraced the concept of diversity, equity, and inclusion as the lodestone of their politics. Perhaps, shockingly, it is equity that is most emblematic of the problems of identity politics. For baked into the concept is a firm rejection of equality—the idea that all people have dignity and should be treated the same—in favor of the rat race of discerning what groups are the least privileged and thus most in need of political attention. The New Deal understood, and modern progressives have forgotten, that this is the exact opposite of how most people like to be treated. Oppressed minority groups do not wish to be singled out as different but instead accepted into mainstream society. Most voters see this as no different than a teacher playing favorites in class.

　　The third and most likely possibility is a mixture of these first two possibilities. Fifty some years ago, before parties divided upon purely ideological lines, Democrats had a vibrant conservative and liberal wing. Such a revival seems possible once again. In the face of mounting electoral challenges, Democrats in rural and working-class communities may strike out on their own—working hard to differentiate themselves from the more coastal, upper-class, progressive reformers who have come to dominate the party. They would face an uphill battle trying to develop a cohesive identity separate from both Republicans and mainstream liberals.

　　Whatever course the left takes, we Americans should fervently pray it leads to a more robust two-party system. Regardless of which party we may personally be inclined to support, history has shown time and again that unchallenged political authority is the death knell of free civilization. Like it or not, the existence of robust parties capable of articulating clear and compelling visions for the country is a great contributor to our nation’s greatness—we sacrifice that at our own peril.