I’m starting with an admission. It’s my own but I think I speak for a lot of Bernie Sanders supporters: I don’t give a shit about the Democratic Party.
With that out of the way…
The pundits have been correct for months, maybe since the day Bernie Sanders announced his candidacy for president — or, more accurately, since the day Hillary Clinton announced hers. He is not going to get the nomination. Nobody is but Hillary. Just ask Debbie Wasserman-Schultz and the superdelegates. The fix was in from the start. We were sheep to them not voters.
But I refuse to be a sheep. And I’m damned sure not inclined to follow the Democratic establishment, any more than I’ve been inclined to follow Bernie Sanders.
Speaking of which, it’s been an amazing year watching the Senator from Vermont. Somebody with bonafides and a megaphone has finally given voice to what so many of us have felt for years. So it was that when the Democratic establishment attempted to silence him, they attempted to silence me. And when they did that, they lost me.
Bernie Sanders isn’t my leader. Nor is he the father of this liberal uprising. He is, instead, as he accurately stated must be the case, a manifestation of a grass roots movement. That movement was Occupy. And now it is us.
Occupy was an echo; it repeated in the public square the conversations we had been having for years in our living rooms, our dorms, at the bar, with God alone as we uttered our fears to heaven. Occupy pared those conversations to their core: The 1% is plundering the 99%. It is them against us. It’s “Class Warfare,” a term conservatives have for good reason mocked; because a war was indeed waged. And it proved to be an easy battle to win, as the 99% were unaware they were even in the crosshairs.
Occupy spoke the truth. It removed our blinders. And presented with the truth, our ire rose. Then did we.
You and I — not Occupy or Bernie Sanders — are the wave. And this primary was the sound of that wave crashing to shore.
Occupy found its oxygen in our evaporated jobs, our unaffordable education, our underfunded bank accounts, our collapsing environment, our corrupt government, and the once-populist-now-money-hungry Democrats who from Bill Clinton’s presidency forward have ignored our cries for economic salvation.
A Yellow Dog, I refused to acknowledge the Democrat’s apathy toward people like me, clung to the hope that they still gave a damn — until this winter, when a candidate who had fought for us for twenty-five years challenged a corporate sycophant; and the party establishment, en masse, sided with the sycophant.
I’m a nobody from the middle of Texas. I vote. I donate small amounts to campaigns when I can. I blog. I tweet. That’s it. But I think it’s time to fight. I think we have to take our country back.
Alone I can’t do squat. Neither can you. But together we almost won the nomination. That’s a remarkable achievement when you consider who we were running against: A former first lady, former senator, former Secretary of State, a multimillionaire with deep Wall Street connections and even deeper Democratic Party connections. She was the chosen one, and we almost knocked her off her throne.
We accomplished that feat because we had the people, the skills, the policies, and the passion and convictions (and the money). Now we have in-the-trenches experience.
It is from alchemies like this that Revolutions are born.
In their infancy is when revolutions are most vulnerable. Ours is vulnerable, too. So it will be challenged. By people we know. By party leaders we’ve long considered our advocates. We already hear their gentle coo, “Bernie has brought new people into the Democratic fold. We welcome them with open arms.” We have become a commodity, you and I. The Democratic Party wants to harvest us for our enthusiasm, our money, our votes. It wants to rebrand us The Party Faithful. In that pursuit, we’re told American politics is about compromise. The party and media use words like “moderation” and “reality” to separate us from our convictions. They deride us for seeking political “Purity.” They then define purity as a dangerous thing. But dangerous for whom?
I don’t choose to be mined for the benefit of the 1%. I prefer to be part of that one thing which frightens the 1%: Us, the people, united.
The Democrats are right to want us and the 1% is right to fear us. We have become a force. And unbridled forces threaten status quos.
Since the Democratic Leadership Council overtook the Democratic Party in the late 1980s, the DNC has proved remarkably adept at co-opting grassroots movements and smothering them within their embrace. It would, therefore, be suicidal for us to cozy up to the Democratic establishment. We need instead to become an independent broker, a resource which supports candidates based on their principles not their party. And as that broker our mission must be to fight like hell, contribute like hell and crank out the vote like hell to get liberals (true liberals – Green, Democrat, Independent, Socialist) elected everywhere, from school boards to mayoral offices, city councils to governorships, state houses to federal houses. We’ve proven we can do this; we nearly defeated the queen, her media, her political machine.
As this race winds down, every one of us must vote our convictions. We must show our resolve even when a nomination defeat is imminent — especially when a nomination defeat is imminent.
The 1% cannot be allowed to crush the 99%. We must win. For us and for the next generations.
We can do this, but first we have to start.