A November victory, however, would not automatically translate into sustained Democratic dominance. The party’s overall favorability remains weak: some polls still show Democrats trailing Republicans and even lagging Trump on net ratings. Many progressives blame this on insufficiently aggressive opposition to Trump, but that misses a deeper obstacle: several of the Democratic Party’s positions on core issues are out of step with a large share of voters.
On topics like immigration and crime, polling finds voters—especially independents—more comfortable with Republican approaches, even when they plan to vote for Democrats. Within the Democratic coalition, there is a rising preference for moderation on questions of public safety and certain social issues, including policies around transgender participation in some public spaces. At the national level, Democrats are perceived as further to the left than many of their own voters realize, reflecting a political elite and urban progressive culture that can feel detached from mainstream attitudes.
Independents are the decisive group. They are a growing slice of the electorate and frequently hold views that diverge from progressive orthodoxy. For instance, a majority of independents say sex is determined at birth, while fewer Democrats accept all contemporary claims about gender identity. Support for some transgender movement demands has softened recently, including among Democrats, illustrating how public opinion can shift away from activist priorities.
American political history shows Democrats have often won by moving toward the center to build broader coalitions. After public opinion hardened in the 1980s, the party adopted a “safe, legal, and rare” framing on abortion. Before same-sex marriage became broadly accepted, many national Democrats—including future leaders—favored civil unions as an intermediate policy. Those earlier compromises were tactical, not moral retreats: they were aimed at building majority support over time.
Today’s progressive wing is more likely to treat compromise as betrayal. Many invoke the belief that history is on their side—the idea that moral progress will inevitably bring the public around—and use that faith to justify standing firm. Sometimes that patience pays off: gay marriage and key civil-rights reforms eventually became entrenched. But assuming the future will simply vindicate current positions is a risky strategy. Political change is contingent and often requires shrewd organizing, selective concessions, and careful timing. Movements that rested on inevitability without pragmatic adaptation have faltered in the past.
Concrete evidence also undercuts the notion that progressive aims always triumph eventually. Public views on abortion have not shifted meaningfully since 1990, and the Supreme Court’s 2022 overturning of Roe v. Wade produced a complex, geographically uneven response rather than a decisive nationwide rebound. U.S. immigration policy has swung repeatedly between openness and restriction; the current era is far more constrained than some 19th-century policies. Affirmative-action programs in higher education, long a civil-rights priority, were rolled back by the Supreme Court in 2023 with limited mass protest. And mandatory busing for school integration, once central to enforcement efforts, was largely abandoned decades ago.
These examples reveal a selection effect in how political history is remembered: victories are emphasized and losses minimized. Rights, policies, and social norms are contested, and public consensus does not inexorably move toward contemporary progressive positions. Many voters, for example, support sex-segregated sports and private spaces for biological women and view some forms of racial preference as unfair. Others are willing to prioritize order and public safety over more permissive social policies. There is no automatic arc that guarantees progressive outcomes across every issue.
If Democrats rest on the belief that moral momentum will carry them forward, they risk provoking repeated backlashes that could hand power to a more radicalized GOP in future cycles. That instability would leave the country alternating between an unpopular Democratic coalition and a populist right-wing alternative every few years.
This is not an argument to abandon principles. Activists who consider racial equity, immigrant rights, criminal-justice reform, or full inclusion for transgender people as moral imperatives should continue advocating for them. But winning and governing durable majorities requires strategic thinking: prioritizing where to press forward, where to accommodate concerns, and how to craft policies that appeal to independents and moderates without abandoning core commitments.
There are policy areas where measured repositioning could broaden the Democratic coalition without sacrificing liberal values—examples include emphasizing public safety and effective policing reforms, developing immigration policies that balance humane treatment with enforceable rules, and reframing approaches to racial preferences around expanding opportunity and transparency rather than quotas. These are the kinds of adjustments that can preserve fairness while addressing mainstream concerns.
Bottom line: Democrats can exploit Trump’s current weaknesses to take back power in the near term, but holding it will require an honest reckoning with public opinion and a willingness to make tactical compromises where they will build sustainable majorities. Faith in an inevitable moral arc cannot substitute for strategy; without pragmatic adaptation, future victories may be handed to opponents who are more willing to pivot and capitalize on popular anxieties.
Originally published on Noah Smith’s Noahpinion Substack; republished here with permission.”}
