You have /5 articles left.
Sign up for a free account or log in.

In The Vital Center: The Politics of Freedom (1949), Arthur Schlesinger Jr. argued that a healthy democracy should balance progressive reforms with a commitment to individual freedom, human rights and social justice, avoiding extremes of authoritarianism or unregulated capitalism. His “vital center” promoted liberal democracy as a middle ground between totalitarian threats—from communism on the left to fascism on the right.

Schlesinger’s vision championed a pragmatic, socially responsible liberalism, favoring government intervention to ensure economic opportunity and social welfare while safeguarding individual freedoms. This centrist approach, he argued, was crucial for protecting democracy and advancing social progress, a countermeasure to the mid-20th-century rise of totalitarian regimes and Cold War tensions.

For Schlesinger, the vital center also upheld pluralism, open debate and compromise as core democratic values, essential to resisting ideological purity. He believed this balanced stance would strengthen democratic institutions and ideals, making them resilient against ideological and political threats.

However, critics of Schlesinger’s vital center argued that its anticommunist zeal, interventionist foreign policy and limited response to domestic inequality rendered it fairly ineffective as a force for social justice and more of a Cold War–era strategy for stabilizing liberal democracy. By prioritizing containment abroad and consensus at home, the vital center struggled to adapt to the demands of the civil rights movement, the antiwar left and economic reformers, ultimately leaving many feeling it fell short of fulfilling the promises of liberal democracy in an era of profound social and political change.


Today, political analysts like Ruy Teixeira are renewing calls for the Democratic Party to embrace a “vital center.” Co-author of The Emerging Democratic Majority (2002) with John Judis, Teixeira initially argued that demographic shifts—growth among populations of color, college-educated voters and socially liberal young adults—would secure Democratic dominance. However, he has since revised his view, now contending that the Democratic Party must address the economic and cultural concerns of working- and middle-class voters to achieve broad-based support.

Teixeira believes that certain ideas embraced by the Democratic Party have alienated working-class and moderate voters, such as an emphasis on identity politics over universal values, a critical view of American society, permissiveness toward social disorder and an uncompromising stance on environmental policy.

He critiques the progressive left for overemphasizing identity in policy discussions, arguing that this approach prioritizes ideological consistency over practical outcomes. Teixeira also suggests that framing America as structurally and unchangeably racist alienates many who recognize the country’s flaws but remain optimistic about progress.

On issues of equality, Teixeira argues that while Americans widely support equality of opportunity, they reject enforced equality of outcomes. He contends that most Americans support addressing racial disparities without solely attributing them to systemic racism. Similarly, Teixeira opposes “defund the police” rhetoric, arguing that a permissive stance on minor crimes undercuts the Democratic image as a party concerned with public safety.

Teixeira also believes that relaxed immigration policies have alienated working-class voters, who fear for their economic security and view lax enforcement as fostering disorder. On energy policy, he suggests that a Democratic stance focusing solely on renewables alienates working-class voters reliant on affordable energy, advocating instead for a balanced approach that includes renewables, natural gas and petroleum.

Teixeira’s critique urges Democrats to ground their policies in widely held American values like patriotism, opportunity and public safety, focusing on pragmatic solutions over ideological purity. While critics argue that Teixeira’s emphasis on universalism may overlook specific challenges faced by marginalized groups, his focus on mainstream voter concerns poses a crucial challenge for the Democratic Party. Reconciling progressive ideals with practical priorities could enable Democrats to resonate with a broader base, fostering both equity and electoral success.


Teixeira’s arguments align with “popularism,” a political philosophy urging political parties—especially those on the left—to align with mainstream public opinion rather than with ideologically rigid or elite-driven stances. Popularism rests on the principle that political success hinges on addressing widely shared concerns, even if it means deprioritizing positions favored by activists.

Popularism emphasizes practical results over ideological purity, prioritizing policies that visibly improve people’s lives. It discourages framing issues solely through identity categories like race or gender, promoting instead universal concerns that resonate across demographics. Popularism advocates aligning policies with majority beliefs rather than catering to fringe perspectives that may weaken broader electoral support.

The philosophy has gained traction within the Democratic Party, as figures like data analyst David Shor argue that Democrats could expand support by focusing on moderate, widely appealing policies rather than divisive or ideological issues. However, critics warn that popularism risks:

  • Sacrificing core values: In prioritizing popularity, popularism could overlook marginalized groups whose needs may not align with mainstream priorities.
  • Appeasing moderates over leading: By following public opinion, it may forgo leadership on essential but initially unpopular reforms, like climate action.
  • Abandoning ambitious reforms: Transformative changes often begin as minority views, and popularism’s focus on the majority may stifle progressive vision.

Popularism ultimately advises parties to bridge ideological divides and appeal broadly across demographics. It suggests that achieving political power requires tuning into majority sentiment rather than strict ideological goals, aiming to enhance electoral viability by rooting policy in popular support.


Turning from Teixeira’s arguments and the principles of popularism, sociologist Musa al-Gharbi offers a more rigorous social science perspective that deepens our understanding of these issues. In his recent study We Have Never Been Woke, al-Gharbi examines how elite institutions lean toward ideological orthodoxy, potentially alienating broader society, particularly working-class and moderate voters. He also examines the cultural and institutional factors that shape public perception, arguing that identity-focused frameworks and ideological silos have compromised public trust and policy effectiveness.

One of al-Gharbi’s central arguments is that academia and media often operate within progressive-leaning ideological silos, creating cognitive dissonance: While promoting values of diversity and inclusivity, they frequently exclude conservative or dissenting viewpoints. This imbalance, he suggests, limits intellectual rigor and fuels public mistrust, as many perceive these institutions as out of touch with mainstream perspectives.

Al-Gharbi also critiques the progressive emphasis on identity politics, which he believes often fails to resonate with working-class and non-college-educated Americans. This disconnect, he argues, contributes to political polarization, pushing many working-class voters toward the political right, where they find greater alignment on issues of economic stability, public safety and cultural values.

Challenging the overuse of identity categories as primary lenses for social analysis, al-Gharbi argues that this “identity reductionism” oversimplifies complex social dynamics, reinforcing stereotypes and eroding solidarity across different classes and races. By framing conflicts solely in terms of privilege and oppression, he contends, identity politics can lead to divisive thinking and ineffective policy solutions.

In addition, al-Gharbi is critical of what he sees as a performative stance on diversity, equity and inclusion among progressive elites. He points out, for example, that elite colleges champion progressive values while maintaining admissions policies favoring wealthier students. This perceived hypocrisy, he argues, undermines the credibility of progressive institutions, leading many to view their stances as self-serving and inauthentic.

Al-Gharbi calls for empathy and intellectual humility among academics, journalists and intellectuals, arguing that experts often overestimate the clarity of their views and overlook the legitimate bases of opposing perspectives. Intellectual humility, he believes, enables constructive discourse and reduces polarization, fostering nuanced debates and policies that resonate more broadly.

He also critiques the tendency among some intellectuals to view populism and nationalism as existential threats. Al-Gharbi argues that, despite their problematic elements, these movements often raise legitimate grievances that should not be dismissed outright, as demonizing them can overlook valid concerns of those marginalized by globalization and elite priorities.

Finally, al-Gharbi advocates for a data-driven, empirical approach to understanding society, emphasizing that ideological framings unsupported by empirical evidence cloud social realities. He argues that data-driven analysis promotes sound policy and public trust, avoiding ideologically charged assumptions.

Al-Gharbi urges academia, media and elite institutions to critically examine their ideological biases and adopt a more balanced, evidence-based approach to policy and discourse. He believes that genuinely considering the perspectives of working-class and nonelite populations is essential for restoring institutional credibility and fostering societal cohesion.


In recent years, analysts have noted the rise of a “new class”—variously referred to as meritocrats, the managerial-professional class or, as al-Gharbi terms them, symbolic capitalists. These individuals work within the “knowledge economy,” which includes academia, consulting, entertainment, journalism, law, media and nonprofits. They wield influence not through traditional economic or industrial capital but through their control over culture, knowledge and information.

Symbolic capitalists hold influential roles within institutions—such as universities, media and tech and cultural organizations—that shape and circulate knowledge, ideas and values. They trade in symbolic capital, deriving power from shaping societal narratives, norms and values. Rather than producing physical goods, symbolic capitalists create, curate and control the content and symbols that shape society’s understanding of identity, justice, politics and morality.

Their authority comes from perceived expertise and intellectual legitimacy, often backed by academic credentials or positions in respected media outlets. Unlike traditional capitalists, their power doesn’t rest on wealth alone but on their ability to define what is seen as valid knowledge, authoritative opinion and progressive values. This symbolic influence often provides material benefits—job security, status and connections—that insulate them from the economic risks faced by other social classes.

The values of symbolic capitalists tend to prioritize cultural and moral issues over economic ones, which can create friction with other groups who are more focused on material concerns. Concentrated in major urban centers and sectors around universities and media hubs, their shared worldview often diverges from that of more economically or geographically diverse populations.

At the same time, elite overproduction has left many symbolic capitalists in positions they view as beneath their status or expertise—often in nonprofits or lower-tier colleges and universities—breeding resentment. Al-Gharbi argues that this class exerts disproportionate influence on public discourse and policy, shaping debates around race, identity, justice and even economics to reflect their worldview. In his words: “Awokenings happen because of tensions within the symbolic professions—they are fundamentally power struggles between established elites and frustrated elite aspirants.”

However, because the symbolic capitalist class’s power is symbolic rather than material, their priorities frequently diverge from those of working-class or rural populations, who tend to prioritize tangible economic stability over cultural issues.

This emergent class structure underscores the shifting nature of power in a society increasingly defined by information, narratives and cultural capital controlled by those who shape and distribute knowledge.


The arguments of Teixeira, al-Gharbi and popularism advocates may indeed strike many as straightforward, even commonsensical, prescriptions for broadening the Democratic Party’s appeal. They emphasize connecting with mainstream concerns and crafting policies that resonate across a diverse electorate—seemingly pragmatic strategies for political success.

So why, then, have these ideas found limited acceptance among progressives and progressive groups?

The answer lies in the deep-rooted commitments and strategic priorities that shape progressive ideals and actions, where the focus shifts from aligning with popular sentiment to advancing transformative change, even when such positions may challenge or diverge from majority opinion.

Issues like environmental justice; diversity, equity and inclusion; and antitrust are seen not merely as policy preferences but as essential steps toward a more equitable society. For many progressives, compromising on these principles feels like a betrayal of core values, especially when addressing urgent challenges such as climate change or systemic injustice. This moral framing, therefore, often outweighs concerns over short-term electoral gains.

Institutional and cultural pressures also reinforce progressive ideals. Within universities, activist organizations, media outlets and think tanks, dissent from core principles can be stigmatized, creating environments where alignment with progressive views signals belonging and commitment. Many progressives argue that past movements, like the civil rights movement, gained traction through unwavering commitment despite initially lacking public support. From this perspective, advocacy aims to shape public opinion rather than conform to it, with short-term electoral losses seen as an acceptable trade-off for long-term cultural shifts.

Further, progressives often distrust pragmatism as a potential concession to neoliberal values, which they see as drivers of inequality and corporate power. Moderating positions on antitrust, for example, can appear to concede too much to corporations that progressives view as threats to democracy and economic justice. This perspective makes popularist approaches feel insufficient for the scale of reform progressives believe is necessary.

The Democratic Party’s dynamics add to this complexity. Progressive voters and donors play a significant role in shaping party priorities, especially during primaries. This influence makes it difficult for Democratic leaders to shift away from progressive stances without risking backlash from key constituencies.

Finally, progressives argue that compromising core principles could embolden right-wing attacks. Scaling back on DEI efforts, for example, may be seen as yielding to critics, potentially undermining the foundation of progressive policies altogether. This defensive stance reinforces progressives’ resolve to uphold principles they see as safeguards against conservative agendas that threaten social progress.

In essence, the tension between popularism and progressivism reflects a struggle between transformative ideals and political pragmatism. For progressives, the goal often goes beyond electoral success to meaningful advances in racial equity, economic justice and environmental sustainability. While popularism calls for alignment with public sentiment, progressives focus on reshaping that sentiment through advocacy. This ongoing tension poses a central challenge within the Democratic coalition as it seeks to balance long-term transformational goals with the practical demands of electoral success.


In the ongoing debate between popularism and progressivism, Michel Foucault’s conception of the intellectual’s role provides a powerful lens. Foucault argued that intellectuals should not dictate actions or impose prescriptive solutions; instead, their role is to expose and analyze power structures, fostering critical thinking that empowers individuals to make informed choices.

This perspective is particularly relevant in today’s political landscape, where popularism promotes pragmatic alignment with mainstream opinion, while progressivism often champions transformative ideals that challenge popular sentiment.

Applying Foucault’s insights, we might see the intellectual task not as choosing a side but as helping society understand the power dynamics within both popularist and progressive frameworks. Popularism’s focus on majority opinion can appear as a concession to power, yet it also amplifies concerns often overlooked by elites. Meanwhile, progressivism’s commitment to addressing inequality critiques existing power systems directly but risks alienating those who may not see these issues as central to their lives.

Foucault’s vision suggests a third path: one where politics equips citizens with tools to critically engage with both approaches, evaluating how each may serve or subvert their interests. Leaders and intellectuals, by emphasizing analysis over dogma, can foster a democracy where individuals actively participate in shaping policy, aware of the stakes and power structures at play.

In this light, the intellectual’s role is not to side with popularism or progressivism, but to clarify their dynamics, empowering society to decide its course—a course that respects public agency and reinforces a reflective democracy.

Ultimately, the effort to revive a vital center is not about abandoning progressive ideals but about recalibrating them to resonate with a broader coalition. As the Democratic Party faces this internal reckoning, its challenge is to craft a platform that marries inclusivity with pragmatism, creating a center that is both vital and vibrant, capable of addressing today’s urgent issues while uniting its base.

This quest to reclaim a vital center underscores a timeless truth in politics: Governing is as much about coalition-building as it is about principle. By blending popularism’s pragmatism with progressive aspirations, the Democratic Party has a chance to forge a center that is not a diluted compromise but a unifying force. In striving for this balance, the party can model how bold political change can remain broadly supported—demonstrating that consensus, far from opposing progress, is its most enduring foundation.

Steven Mintz is professor of history at the University of Texas at Austin and the author, most recently, of The Learning-Centered University: Making College a More Developmental, Transformational and Equitable Experience.

Next Story

Written By

More from Higher Ed Gamma