When CIVPAC began, we expected much of our work to involve supporting center-left and center-right candidates in primaries, with the hope of nudging both parties toward the political center. That task has changed. Increasingly, CIVPAC finds itself supporting conventional left-wing or right-wing candidates against more extreme alternatives that, not long ago, would have seemed unlikely to gain serious traction in American politics.
When this effort began, through CIVPAC’s predecessor organization, the New Independent Party, the national political world was still recognizable. The 2012 presidential race was Mitt Romney against Barack Obama. CIVPAC would have had criticisms of both candidates, but both were serious, constitutional, mainstream figures. The distance between that world and today’s politics explains why CIVPAC’s task has changed.
Espaillat is not a centrist Democrat. He is a mainstream progressive Democrat with a reliable party-line voting record. But the question in NY-13 is not whether voters should choose a centrist over a progressive. The question is whether Democratic primary voters should replace an experienced incumbent with Darializa Avila Chevalier, a democratic-socialist challenger backed by Mayor Zohran Mamdani.
That race is part of a larger pattern. Mamdani has endorsed three congressional candidates in New York: Avila Chevalier in NY-13, Brad Lander in NY-10, and Claire Valdez in NY-7. CIVPAC is not making endorsements in all three races at this time. But the slate matters because it has become a national signal about the direction of the Democratic Party in its most heavily Democratic urban districts.
Deep-blue primaries are not politically isolated. New York City helps shape the Democratic Party’s national brand. When candidates running on democratic-socialist, movement-left politics become the face of the party in highly visible urban districts, voters outside New York notice. So do Republican media and campaign strategists.
If Democrats believe Mamdani’s strategy and the candidates he is backing are likely to succeed nationally, they should ask why Fox News is so eager to make that strategy visible to voters outside New York City.
CIVPAC does not object to new candidates merely because they are new. Parties need competition, new voices, and serious challenges to complacency. Nor does CIVPAC believe incumbents are entitled to renomination. But not every insurgency is an improvement.
This is one of those situations. The work now feels less like gently nudging the parties toward the center than trying to keep the planets from being flung out of the solar system.
Our concern is the road to “Blue MAGA.” We do not mean that left-wing populism and Trumpism are identical. They are not. But both can reward tribal certainty, ideological escalation, contempt for persuasion, and the belief that political intensity is a substitute for broad public appeal.
In NY-13, CIVPAC believes the better choice is clear. Representative Espaillat is not a CIVPAC ideal candidate, but he offers experience, institutional knowledge, and continuity. Replacing him with a movement-left challenger would strengthen the very tendency CIVPAC has warned about: the temptation to make deep-blue urban politics the face of the national Democratic Party.
That is bad politics for Democrats and bad politics for the country.
CIVPAC therefore endorses Representative Adriano Espaillat in the Democratic primary for the U.S. House in New York’s 13th Congressional District.
AI-generated symbolic image of a blue road roller paving the road to “Blue MAGA.”
Democrats have spent years warning, correctly, that Trumpism has damaged American politics. But one lesson they should not take from Trumpism is that politics is only about mobilizing the most emotionally committed members of the base.
That way lies what some have called “Blue MAGA.”
By “Blue MAGA,” we do not mean that left-wing populism is identical to Trumpism. It is not. Nor do we mean that Democrats should reject working-class appeal, fresh candidates, economic populism, or a willingness to fight. Democrats may need more of some of those things.
By “Blue MAGA,” we mean the temptation to copy some of MAGA’s worst political habits: tribal loyalty, contempt for persuasion, and the belief that emotional intensity is a substitute for broad public appeal.
Democrats face this temptation now. After years of Trump, many Democratic primary voters understandably want candidates who sound angry, uncompromising, and morally certain. That may feel satisfying. It may even win some blue districts and blue cities. But it is a poor strategy for winning red, pink, and purple places where Democrats need converts, independents, moderates, suburban voters, disaffected Republicans, and people who are tired of politics as permanent combat.
Georgia offered a useful test.
Geoff Duncan was not a conventional Democrat. That was the point. He was a former Republican lieutenant governor who broke with Trump over election integrity and paid a political price inside his own party. Democrats did not need to agree with Duncan on every issue to recognize the strategic value of his candidacy. If the defense of democracy is as important as Democrats say it is, then a pro-democracy former Republican should have been treated as an asset, not an intruder.
Instead, Democrats chose a more conventional path. Keisha Lance Bottoms won the Democratic nomination for governor without a runoff. She is a well-known Democrat and a serious political figure. But her nomination also raises the familiar question: are Democrats trying to build a broader governing coalition, or are they choosing candidates who make the base feel more comfortable? The problem is not that Bottoms is unserious. The problem is that Duncan offered a different kind of coalition opportunity.
This is not just a Georgia problem. It is a national problem for Democrats in red and purple territory. The party cannot say it wants to win everywhere while rejecting candidates who might appeal to people who do not already think like Democratic primary voters.
The point is not that every former Republican should be welcomed uncritically. Parties need standards. Candidates who switch parties for convenience or ambition should be examined carefully. But Duncan’s break with Trump was not a minor branding choice. It went to the central institutional question of the last several years: whether elected officials would defend election integrity when pressured by their own side.
If Democrats cannot make room for that, they should stop pretending that defending democracy is a coalition project.
The road to “Blue MAGA” is paved by the belief that the other side’s extremism justifies our side’s extremism. It is paved by the assumption that persuasion is weakness, that moderation is betrayal, and that candidates should be judged first by whether they make activists feel seen.
That road may produce candidates who sound good in a primary and lose races that were winnable. It may also produce candidates who win in heavily Democratic places but govern in ways that drive away the voters needed to build durable majorities nationally.
This does not mean Democrats should reject efforts to recruit new candidates. They should do the opposite. A stale bench, safe résumés, and candidates who speak only to existing Democratic primary voters will not solve the party’s problem. Candidate recruitment matters.
But “new blood” is not automatically the same thing as better blood. There is a difference between recruiting candidates who can broaden the party’s appeal and recruiting candidates who simply give activists a more satisfying fight. Democrats need candidates who can win voters they do not already have, not candidates who merely express the frustrations of voters they already do.
Groups trying to build a stronger Democratic bench may be doing important work. Some of that work points in the right direction. Democrats need candidates with compelling stories, state and district ties, practical experience, and the ability to speak beyond the party’s current coalition. But the test should not be novelty alone. The question is whether they expand the party’s reach or merely intensify its internal mood.
There are promising models.
Democrats should be looking for more candidates in the mold of Roy Cooper in North Carolina, Josh Shapiro in Pennsylvania, Daniel Lurie in San Francisco, and, in Georgia, the opportunity Geoff Duncan represented. These are not identical figures, and they come from different political environments. But they share something important: they try to solve problems in a way that reaches beyond the most ideological voters in their own coalition.
Cooper showed that a Democrat could win statewide in a Republican-leaning state by projecting steadiness, moderation, and practical concern for schools, health care, and economic development. Shapiro has shown a similar ability in Pennsylvania, combining mainstream Democratic commitments with a governing style that does not seem designed primarily for activist approval. Lurie offers a different but related lesson from a deeply Democratic city: even in blue places, voters may be hungry for competence, public order, housing reform, economic recovery, and a government that works.
That is the kind of new blood Democrats should want. Not candidates who merely intensify the party’s internal mood, but candidates who expand its reach.
There are also warning signs that the search for new faces is veering off course.
Kara Eastman defeated a more moderate Democrat in Nebraska’s 2nd Congressional District and then lost the general election twice, including in 2020 when Joe Biden carried the district’s electoral vote. Randy Bryce became a national progressive celebrity as “Iron Stache,” raised money, won attention, and still failed to turn Wisconsin’s 1st Congressional District blue. Paula Jean Swearengin offered a compelling Appalachian populist story in West Virginia, won the Democratic Senate nomination, and lost by more than 40 points.
These examples do not prove that every moderate would have won. They do show that biography, anger, online enthusiasm, and populist rhetoric are not substitutes for persuading the voters who actually decide red and purple races.
Graham Platner points to a current version of the same risk. His outsider profile, veteran biography, rural appeal, and anti-establishment message are exactly why some Democrats find him exciting. But that is also why his candidacy is a useful test. Populist energy, outsider branding, and intense primary enthusiasm may not survive contact with a general electorate.
A candidate like Zohran Mamdani may be viable in New York City. That does not mean the same style travels well to Maine, Georgia, Nebraska, Pennsylvania, North Carolina, or other places Democrats must compete if they want governing majorities. CIVPAC does not argue that left populists can never win anywhere. We argue that Democrats are making a mistake if they treat deep-blue or idiosyncratic-city success as a model for red and purple territory.
The recent mayoral results in New York City, Washington, D.C., and San Francisco are worth taking seriously because they say something about the Democratic brand when general-election constraint is weak. In places where the real contest is often the Democratic primary, voters and activists can reveal what kind of politics they prefer when they do not have to worry very much about Republican opposition.
New York and D.C. point in one direction. Zohran Mamdani’s victory in New York City and Janeese Lewis George’s victory in the D.C. mayoral primary suggest that left-populist politics has real strength in some of the party’s most visible urban centers. That matters nationally because New York and Washington are not just local governments. They are symbols. They help define what many voters elsewhere think Democrats are becoming.
San Francisco points in a different direction. Daniel Lurie’s victory did not make San Francisco conservative. It remains one of the most liberal cities in America. But it did suggest that even deeply liberal voters can become impatient with public disorder, visible dysfunction, housing paralysis, downtown weakness, and a city government that does not seem able to execute. In San Francisco, pragmatic competence became the change candidate. That is a brand image that could have national appeal.
That contrast is important. The problem is not that Democrats should never nominate left-populists in cities where left-populists can win. The problem is treating those victories as a national model. A style of politics that can win New York City or Washington, D.C. may still damage the Democratic brand in Maine, Georgia, Nebraska, Pennsylvania, North Carolina, or other places where Democrats need voters who do not already identify with the party’s most progressive urban wing.
This is another reason candidate recruitment matters. Deep-blue cities can become laboratories for policy innovation, but they can also become laboratories for national brand damage. When Democrats are unconstrained by serious general-election competition, they should ask not only what their local primary electorate wants, but what their choices tell the rest of the country about the party they are building.
Progressives sometimes make a mirror-image argument: that centrist Democrats in red or purple states damage the national Democratic brand by making the party look cautious, compromised, or insufficiently committed to progressive change. That argument should not be dismissed out of hand. Party brands are real, and candidates in one state can affect how voters see the party elsewhere. But a national party is not a boutique ideological label. It is a coalition built to govern a large, diverse country. A party that cannot tolerate candidates who fit West Virginia, Georgia, North Carolina, Maine, or Pennsylvania may preserve a cleaner brand, but it will have fewer seats, less power, and less ability to enact anything at all.
Joe Manchin offers a related lesson from the other direction. Manchin was not a model national Democrat, and many Democrats understandably found him infuriating given their policy preferences. He protected the filibuster, resisted major parts of President Biden’s domestic agenda, defended fossil-fuel interests important to West Virginia, and often used his leverage in ways that frustrated Democratic leaders.
CIVPAC does not share every Manchin position. But the strategic fact remains: he could win a Senate seat in West Virginia as a Democrat. A party that can hold a Senate seat in West Virginia through a moderate Democrat is stronger than a party that treats such figures as embarrassments and then watches the seat become unwinnable.
That lesson applies beyond Manchin. A party serious about building a durable governing coalition cannot demand that every candidate in every state sound like the median activist in a national primary. It has to tolerate members who fit their states, represent different electorates, and sometimes frustrate national party priorities.
That is what coalition politics means.
CIVPAC’s view is different from both partisan purity and performative moderation. Parties should nominate candidates who can govern effectively and appeal beyond their own faction. That sometimes means choosing a Democrat. Sometimes it means choosing a Republican. In rare cases, like Angus King of Maine, it might mean supporting an independent with a plausible path to success.
It is fine to lose after making the strongest possible case to the voters. It is something else to lose after rejecting the better candidate because the better candidate did not flatter the party’s internal mood.
When that happens, the answer to the party that loses the general election is simple: you had a better choice. You chose not to take it.
AI Generated Symbolic Illustration of White House in Fog
The Fog Beyond the Battlefield
Wars are hard to understand while they are being fought. The fog of war applies to more than just the battlefield itself. That is especially true when the conflict involves Iran, Israel, the United States, nuclear facilities, regional proxies, intelligence claims, authoritarian censorship, partisan politics, and a flood of propaganda from every direction.
That does not mean citizens should say nothing. It does mean we should be careful about what we claim to know.
Much of the information coming from this war is unreliable, incomplete, or strategically framed. Casualty figures may be wrong. Damage assessments may be exaggerated or understated. Claims about nuclear facilities may be true in part and misleading in part. Images and videos may be old, staged, mislabeled, or generated by artificial intelligence. Governments, media organizations, political factions, and foreign actors all have incentives to shape public perception.
That is not a reason for moral paralysis. Iran’s regime is repressive, dangerous, hostile to the United States, hostile to Israel, and committed to projecting power through proxies and intimidation. Iran’s nuclear program is a legitimate concern. Israel has a right to defend itself. The United States has real interests in preventing nuclear proliferation, protecting allies, preserving freedom of navigation, and maintaining some degree of regional stability.
But none of that eliminates the need for disciplined judgment. The fact that Iran is dangerous does not make every claim about the war reliable. The fact that a military action may be justified in principle does not prove that this particular military action was the best course. The fact that some critics of the war may be naive or reflexively anti-American does not mean that all criticism is unserious.
Democracies Fight With the Consent of the Governed
A democracy has to think differently about war than an authoritarian state does.
A dictator can begin a war with greater confidence that he can suppress dissent, hide losses, control information, punish critics, and continue the conflict long after the original rationale has become doubtful. A democratic government cannot assume that. America may have superior military power, but it must keep explaining why the war is necessary, what the objective is, what costs are justified, and how success will be measured.
That is both a strength and a weakness.
It is a strength because public consent disciplines the use of force. It makes it harder to sustain wars based on vanity, ideology, vague ambition, or wishful thinking. It forces leaders to answer questions that dictators can evade. Why this war? Why now? What is the achievable objective? What would count as enough? What happens afterward?
It is a weakness because our adversaries understand it. They can play for time. They can absorb punishment, manipulate civilian-casualty narratives, exploit partisan divisions, spread disinformation, wait for elections, and bet that democratic publics will tire before authoritarian regimes crack.
That has been a recurring feature of many conflicts involving the United States. It was true in Vietnam. It was true in Iraq. It was true in Afghanistan. It is true in Ukraine, where Russia’s strategy depends heavily on the belief that the United States and Europe will eventually lose patience. It is also relevant to any conflict involving Iran.
The mistake is not that democracies require consent. That is one of their virtues. The mistake is entering or escalating conflicts without recognizing that public consent is part of the battlefield.
That Makes Truth a Strategic Resource
There is an old children’s story that some public officials seem never to have learned, or have forgotten: “The Boy Who Cried Wolf.” The lesson is not that wolves never come. The lesson is that a person who lies repeatedly destroys his ability to be believed when the danger is real.
That lesson applies with special force to war. Blatant lies by government officials, even on issues unrelated to the conflict, weaken the public’s willingness to believe the government when it may be telling the truth about the conflict itself. Trust cannot be turned on and off at the convenience of those in power. A democracy that may need public support in a crisis cannot afford leaders who treat truth as a tactical instrument.
This is not just a matter of civic virtue. It is a matter of national security.
If the public believes that government officials routinely lie about elections, crime, inflation, immigration, health, corruption, or their own conduct, then the public will also discount official statements about war. Some of that discounting will be healthy skepticism. Some of it will become destructive cynicism. But leaders who have squandered credibility should not be surprised when citizens hesitate to believe them in a crisis.
That is one reason the Iran war is so difficult to assess. We do not know enough. We do not know the full damage to Iran’s nuclear program. We do not know which claims of battlefield success are reliable. We do not know how much of Iran’s military capability has been degraded and how much has been hidden, dispersed, or preserved. We do not know whether Iran’s leadership will respond with caution, revenge, negotiation, or delay. We do not know whether regional actors will be deterred or emboldened. We do not know whether a ceasefire is the beginning of a settlement or merely an interval before the next phase.
The Hardest Question May Take Years to Answer
We also do not know whether the costs will prove justified.
That may be the hardest truth. However this war ends, if it ends, we may not know for many years whether the costs were justified. We may never know. If Iran’s nuclear program is delayed for a decade and a wider regional war is avoided, some will call the war a success. If the program is only briefly disrupted, if Iran emerges more determined, if civilian suffering fuels radicalization, if allies lose confidence, or if the conflict returns in a more dangerous form, the judgment may be very different.
History rarely gives clean answers in real time. Sometimes it does not give them at all.
Force Requires a Clear Objective
That does not mean democracies should never use force. Pacifism is not a strategy. Some threats are real. Some regimes are aggressive. Some dangers grow worse when ignored. A world in which Iran acquires nuclear weapons would be more dangerous. A world in which authoritarian regimes learn that democracies will never act is also dangerous.
But military force should be tied to a clear objective that citizens can understand and sustain. If the goal is to delay Iran’s nuclear program, say so. If the goal is deterrence, say so. If the goal is to protect shipping and regional stability, say so. If the goal is regime change, the burden of proof is vastly higher. A democracy should not drift from one rationale to another as events unfold.
Citizens should also resist the temptation to treat uncertainty as permission to believe whatever is emotionally satisfying. Supporters of military action should not assume every strike is successful, every critic is weak, or every official claim is true. Opponents of military action should not assume every American or Israeli action is reckless, every Iranian claim of victimhood is reliable, or every use of force is imperial folly.
The responsible position is harder. It requires opposing Iran’s nuclear ambitions while demanding honest evidence about what military action has achieved. It requires supporting Israel’s right to security while recognizing the risks of escalation. It requires resisting authoritarian propaganda while also refusing to become a captive of our own side’s wishful thinking. It requires understanding that in a democracy, sustaining public consent is not a public-relations problem. It is part of the strategy.
That is the civic discipline war requires.
When facts are uncertain, principles matter more, not less. Those principles should include opposition to nuclear proliferation, respect for democratic accountability, skepticism toward authoritarian propaganda, skepticism toward domestic political spin, concern for civilian life, and insistence on achievable objectives.
Strength Requires Credibility
The United States should not be casual about war. It should not be casual about Iran’s nuclear ambitions either. Serious policy requires holding both thoughts at once.
The public does not need leaders who pretend to know everything. It needs leaders who can be expected to tell the truth about what they know, what they do not know, what they are trying to accomplish, and what costs they are asking the country to bear.
That is not weakness. That is how a democracy prepares itself to act with strength when strength is truly necessary.
