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neoliberalism
Harris, Trudeau, and the Fall of Our Noeliberal Saviors
What is that lesson that corporate-friendly so-called "centrists" refuse to learn? That you cannot save democracy while preserving the very economic and political arrangements that have hollowed it out.
Jan 08, 2025
Justin Trudeau's resignation and Trump's looming return on the anniversary of January 6 mark not just the resurgence of the far-right, but perhaps final collapse of centrist delusions.
There's a bitter poetry to the timing. On January 6, 2025—exactly four years after Trump supporters stormed the U.S. Capitol in a violent attempt to overturn democracy—two events crystallized the profound failure of liberal centrism. In Ottawa, Justin Trudeau, once the global poster child for progressive liberalism, announced his resignation as Canada's Prime Minister. Meanwhile in Washington, Donald Trump prepared to return to power, having decisively defeated another supposed liberal savior in Kamala Harris.
The convergence of these events represents more than just the latest episode in the ongoing crisis of liberal democracy. It marks the definitive end of an era defined by a particular political fantasy: that charismatic centrist leaders could somehow save liberal democracy from its own contradictions while preserving the very system that produced its decay.
The Liberal Savior Myth
At the heart of contemporary liberalism lies a seductive myth: that the right combination of charismatic leadership, technocratic competence, and moderate politics can save democracy from its enemies while avoiding fundamental social transformation. This "liberal savior" narrative has dominated centrist political imagination for the past decade, manifesting in figures from Emmanuel Macron to Pete Buttigieg.
The limits of liberal centrism proved fatal. Unable to deliver material improvements in people's lives while preserving the interests of their donor class, these supposed saviors watched their support collapse.
The myth operates on two levels. First, it suggests that individual leaders—through force of personality, rhetorical skill, or managerial expertise—can resolve deep structural crises without challenging the underlying power relations that produced them. Second, and more insidiously, it promotes the idea that liberal democracy itself can be saved simply by defending existing institutions rather than radically democratizing them.
This mythology reached its apotheosis in Justin Trudeau. Young, photogenic, and armed with progressive rhetoric, he seemed to embody everything liberals believed could defeat the populist right. Here was a leader who could speak the language of social justice while reassuring financial markets, who could kneel at Black Lives Matter protests while expanding oil pipelines, who could champion feminism while maintaining corporate power structures.
The same template was later applied to figures like Joe Biden and Kamala Harris, both presented as the noble defenders of democratic norms against Trumpian barbarism. Yet in each case, the fundamental contradiction remained: you cannot save democracy while preserving the very economic and political arrangements that have hollowed it out.
The Rise and Fall of Justin Trudeau
Trudeau's trajectory is especially revealing. In 2015, he rode to power on a wave of optimism, presenting himself as the progressive antidote to conservative rule. With his carefully cultivated image of youthful dynamism and performative embrace of diversity, he became the archetype of what liberals imagined could defeat the rising tide of right-wing populism. International media swooned over his "sunny ways" and apparent commitment to progressive causes.
The reality never matched the image. Behind the woke platitudes and photo ops, Trudeau's government consistently served the interests of Canadian capital. His administration expanded oil pipelines despite climate crisis rhetoric, continued selling arms to Saudi Arabia while claiming to champion human rights, and used federal power to crush labor resistance, as seen in his government's draconian response to postal worker strikes.
The contradictions only deepened over time. While Trudeau spoke eloquently about reconciliation with Indigenous peoples, his government aggressively pursued resource extraction projects on unceded territories. He campaigned on electoral reform but abandoned it when he couldn't secure a system favorable to his party. His supposed feminist credentials were exposed as hollow when he forced out strong women in his cabinet who challenged his authority during the SNC-Lavalin scandal.
The Myth of the Liberal Savior
This gap between progressive aesthetics and neoliberal governance isn't a bug but a feature of the liberal savior model. Figures like Trudeau fundamentally misunderstand democracy as a system to be preserved rather than radically expanded. Their project was always about maintaining the status quo through a kind of repressive tolerance – allowing just enough progressive window dressing to deflect demands for structural change while keeping the fundamental power relations of capitalism intact.
This gap between progressive aesthetics and neoliberal governance isn't a bug but a feature of the liberal savior model.
The same dynamic played out in the United States. After Trump's 2020 defeat, Democrats assured voters that "normalcy" would be restored under Joe Biden. When his presidency floundered, they turned to Kamala Harris as the next great hope for defending democracy against Trump's return. Yet as with Trudeau, the limits of liberal centrism proved fatal. Unable to deliver material improvements in people's lives while preserving the interests of their donor class, these supposed saviors watched their support collapse.
The liberal savior myth rests on two fundamental delusions. First, that individual leadership qualities—whether Trudeau's charisma or Biden's experience—can overcome the structural crisis of legitimacy facing liberal democratic institutions. Second, that these institutions can be preserved in their current form while addressing the deep inequalities and democratic deficits that fuel right-wing populism.
The Structural Crisis of Liberal Democracy
This approach was always doomed to fail because it refused to acknowledge that liberal democracy's crisis stems from its own internal contradictions. The same free market capitalism that centrist leaders champion has hollowed out democratic institutions, atomized communities, and created the precarious conditions that drive authoritarian appeals. No amount of symbolic progressivism or calls to preserve norms can resolve this fundamental tension.
The same free market capitalism that centrist leaders champion has hollowed out democratic institutions, atomized communities, and created the precarious conditions that drive authoritarian appeals.
The failures of figures like Trudeau reveal the bankruptcy of what have called "repressive democracy"—a system that maintains the formal structures of democratic governance while emptying them of substantive content. Under this model, democracy becomes primarily about managing dissent rather than enabling genuine popular power. Elections serve more to legitimate existing power structures than to facilitate real political transformation.
This crisis has only deepened in recent years. As economic inequality has soared and climate chaos intensifies, liberal democratic institutions have proven increasingly incapable of addressing fundamental social problems. The response from centrist leaders has been to double down on technocratic management while wrapping themselves in progressive rhetoric—a strategy that has now definitively failed.
Beyond Liberal Democracy: Building Socialist Alternatives
The real question is not how to save liberal democracy, but how to transcend it through the creation of genuine democratic alternatives. This requires moving beyond both right-wing populism's false promises and liberal centrism's managed decline. Instead, we need a democratic socialist vision that expands democracy into all spheres of life—economic, social, and political.
This means building power from below through militant labor movements, tenant organizations, and community groups that practice genuine democratic decision-making. It means fighting for universal public goods and democratic control over the economy. Most importantly, it means rejecting the liberal belief that democracy is primarily about preserving institutions, and embracing it as an ongoing project of collective liberation.
The real question is not how to save liberal democracy, but how to transcend it through the creation of genuine democratic alternatives.
Practical examples of this alternative vision are already emerging. The recent wave of labor militancy across North America shows how workers can exercise democratic power outside traditional political channels. Municipal socialist movements are experimenting with participatory budgeting and community control. Indigenous land defenders are modeling forms of democratic governance that challenge both liberal capitalism and right-wing reaction.
Trudeau's fall and Trump's return should serve as the final nail in the coffin of the liberal savior myth. The choice we face is not between liberal democracy and authoritarianism, but between the expansion of genuine democratic power or its continued erosion under the twin forces of right-wing reaction and centrist accommodation. The only way to defeat the far right is to build democratic socialist alternatives that actually address the crisis of democracy at its roots.
The future depends not on enlightened leaders preserving the status quo, but on ordinary people organizing to fundamentally transform it. The fall of figures like Trudeau should not be mourned but celebrated as an opportunity to finally move beyond the dead end of liberal centrism and begin the real work of democratic reconstruction.
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Jimmy Carter: The First Neoliberal Democrat and the Last Boy Scout
The most meaningful measure we can make of Jimmy Carter is whether we would prefer an imperfect, yet noble man like him at the helm of the country, today. I would.
Jan 08, 2025
Virtually everybody with an opinion judges Jimmy Carter to have been a decent man. He was certainly as good an ex-president as we’ve ever had. But what about his legacy as a then-president? That assessment is murkier.
A common refrain holds that Carter was a good man but a weak president, that he was not wise to the ways of Washington, that he was naïve in his belief that pure motives could win over champions of impure schemes.
It is impossible to fairly weigh Carter’s success or failure without understanding the context in which he served. That context was some of the greatest institutional tumult the U.S. has ever seen.
First, was Vietnam. The U.S. had just limped, still bleeding, out of the Vietnam War. It was the first war America had ever lost. The trauma of that loss (to say nothing of the trauma of having tried to prevent it) cannot be overstated.
Carter was the first elected president to have to deal with the shock, the disbelief, the grief, the shame, and the anger from the loss. There wasn’t a person in America who knew how to deal with that rat’s nest of conflicting, disorienting emotions and make the country whole again.
After Vietnam (and, especially, immediately after) the U.S. was not the swaggering hegemon it had been for the 30 years since 1945. But what could it be? That Delphic divination was only the first of Carter’s monumental challenges. There was equal upheaval, economically.
In 1971, Richard Nixon had removed the dollar’s coupling to gold. That left Arab oil sheikdoms receiving paper for their once-ever patrimony. They responded by tripling the price of oil, sending both inflationary and recessionary shocks through the world’s economy.
Theory held that stagnation and inflation couldn’t exist at the same time. But there it was: stagflation. The remedy for stagnation was to lower interest rates and increase the money supply. The remedy for inflation was to raise interest rates and reduce the money supply.
Clearly, you couldn’t do both at the same time. The Keynesian framework for managing the economy, operative since the Great Depression, no longer worked. So, in 1979, Carter hired Paul Volcker to try to fix it.
Volcker jacked up interest rates to record levels, inducing an immediate recession. It was the right thing to do, but it killed Carter’s chances in the 1980 election, as he knew it would. It gave Ronald Reagan his now-famous question: “Are you better off today than you were four years ago?”
Finally, on top of the ferocious ferment roiling international and economic affairs, there was Watergate. Richard Nixon was caught trying to break into the offices of whistleblower Daniel Elsberg’s psychiatrist and also the Democratic National Committee headquarters. The crime seems petty today, especially compared to launching a mob on the Capitol to stop the peaceful transfer of power, but it was monumental, then.
Probably no event in modern history had so shattered the public’s faith in the integrity of its national institutions and actors. Nixon resigned in disgrace. All political acts—and all political actors—were suddenly suspected of being nefarious and self-dealing.
Carter was both, but he was also neither. That is, yes, he was a politician, carrying out political acts. But he was neither nefarious nor self-dealing. He was as honest and selfless a politician as we’ve ever known. But, that was the tar with which all politics, and politicians, were smeared by Nixon’s sordid bequest.
Simply put, the intellectual and institutional moorings that had anchored the country for the prior 40 years—from the New Deal consensus to the post-World War II international order—were coming unglued. That was the tectonically-shifting world that Carter inherited. Nobody had ever dealt with anything like it.
So, how did he do? In truth, he did pretty well. First, the negatives.
In 1979, Iranian revolutionaries overthrew their government and took 66 Americans hostage. They held them for 444 days, dealing a severe humiliation to the U.S. That was probably Carter’s greatest public defeat.
But the underlying grievance had started in 1953, when the U.S. overthrew the democratically elected Prime Minister, Mohammad Mossadegh, and installed the brutal Shah Reza Pahlavi, a reliable U.S. sycophant but a ruthless enemy of his own people. The boil of that festering resentment popped in 1979, on Carter’s watch.
Also, the Reagan campaign had cut a back-door deal with the revolutionaries to not release the hostages until after the election, thereby depriving Carter of a win in the matter. It was one of the most perfidious deeds ever to degrade American politics. Most people didn’t know that then, and don’t know it, still, today, so mistakenly blame Carter for the entire ordeal.
Later in 1979, the Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan. Carter had provoked the invasion. Six months before, he had begun supplying arms to the opponents of the Soviet-leaning Afghan government. The Soviets invaded to prop up their ally which was under attack by U.S.-supported terrorists, including the later-to-become-infamous Osama bin Laden.
Ironically, Afghanistan proved to be the Soviet Union’s Vietnam, draining it of treasure, manpower, and willpower. It is widely regarded to have been the single greatest cause of the Soviet collapse, in 1991. Carter’s critics who condemn his actions at the time always seem to forget that they eventuated in the defeat of the U.S.’ greatest adversary of the twentieth century.
Carter’s solutions to economic woes leaned conservative, or even further. It was he who began the Neoliberal regime we often associate with Ronald Reagan.
He deregulated the airline, trucking, and railroad industries. He reduced spending on welfare much more than either Nixon or Reagan ever did. Fearing inflation, he fought the United Mine Workers in their 1978 national coal strike, alienating one of his—and the Democratic party’s—most important bases.
But what of the good things that Carter delivered?
For all of the upheaval, he actually delivered better economic performance than did Ronald Reagan. That meant faster GDP growth and higher levels of business investment. He delivered the last balance of payments surplus the country has ever known. And he did this without the budget busting deficits that followed him.
When Carter left office, in January, 1981, the national debt—the cumulation of all federal borrowing over 204 years—stood at just under $1 trillion. Reagan tripled that debt in only eight years, an ominous portent of things to come. It is $36 trillion, today.
Carter placed more women and minorities in the federal judiciary—40 and 87, respectively—than all of his predecessors, combined. Ruth Bader Ginsburg attributed her decision to become a judge to Carter’s initiative. He literally actualized the centuries-long-delayed intent embodied in the Civil Rights revolution of the 1960s.
Carter established the Department of Energy, an essential move, given the way the country and the world were being whipsawed by Arab oil producers. It has been a huge contributor to the U.S.’ being one of the world’s top energy producers still, today.
He started the Department of Education. An educated work force is probably the most valuable social asset a society can produce. But before Carter, it was left to the scattered machinations of 50 different state bureaucracies, a guarantee for national failure.
Carter engineered the Camp David Accords, bringing Israel and Egypt together to bury at least part of the hostility that has afflicted the Middle East since Israel’s founding in 1948. He proved prescient on the Israelis, predicting that they would not honor their promises to cede greater autonomy to the Palestinians.
Finally, Carter introduced Human Rights into U.S. foreign policy considerations. Even if done badly, it signaled an aspiration for what the U.S. stood for in its desire to be “the leader of the free world.”
The sum of this amounts to as adroit (though not flawless) an adaptation to the challenges of the time as could be conceived.
Besides considering the context and weighing the balance on Carter, there is one more lens through which we can, and should, judge him. That is, “Who would you rather have at the helm, today, steering the country through waters that are at least as perilous as those Carter faced?”
The U.S. is going through similar—or even greater—dislocations, today, as it was in Carter’s time. Its status in the world is plummeting as it has done everything it possibly could to bolster Israel’s heinous genocide of the Palestinians, and as China has blown by it in manufacturing, commerce, and in many areas of technology.
It has suffered withering military defeats, in Iraq, Afghanistan, and, now, Ukraine. The majority of the world’s nations—led by Russia and China—are aligning against it as a Global South. Its economy, too, is much worse today than it was in Carter’s time.
In 1980, the U.S. had not begun hollowing out its economy with 40 years of de-industrialization. It had not begun the psychotic debt binge it has taken, borrowing $35 trillion dollars to try to mask the rot and keep the lights on. It was not hazarding the onset of actuarial bankruptcy, as it is, today.
These are not the signifiers of a healthy global leader. They are the signs of a wounded, faltering behemoth struggling to find a way to regain its once-heralded, even respected, primacy.
So, where does all of this leave us with Jimmy Carter?
Everybody agrees that Carter was an honest, decent, dignified, intelligent, hard-working, selfless public servant who never used his office for personal gain. It’s the things he wasn’t, though, that makes the things he was stand out in such dazzling, admirable, relief.
He wasn’t a pathological liar. He wasn’t a serial sexual abuser. He didn’t consort with porn stars and Playboy bunnies. In fact, he was married to the same woman for 77 years. His daddy didn’t leave him $413 million, so he wasn’t a phony put-up as a self-made man. He wasn’t a five-time draft dodger. He was a graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy at Annapolis and served seven honorable years in active duty.
He wasn’t a tax cheat or a convicted felon—probably didn’t even have traffic tickets, he was such a Boy Scout. He didn’t use his office to boost his own personal wealth. He didn’t sell access to billionaires. He didn’t foment racial hatred for electoral gain. He wasn’t a bully. He didn’t threaten to send journalists and political foes to jail, in order to silence them. He didn’t steal state secrets on his way out of the presidency. And he certainly never tried to overthrow the government to keep himself in power.
It’s amazing how far our putative standards have fallen, and how we can so readily, fatuously, condemn a good man who, facing the greatest task of many decades, gave our country his very best, and, in fact, healed so many of the wounds of distrust and division that he and we had inherited.
Smug, supercilious condescension about Jimmy Carter is precisely the sign of our own inadequacy to judge him. We insist of him, even in his death, that he be some kind of incongruous super-human avatar: both chaste and worldly-wise; honest and wily; simple, but savvy; idealistic, yet pragmatic; compassionate, yet ruthless.
Would that we could apply such standards in our own time, to wildly, egregiously inferior human beings, repulsive, amoral self-dealers, setting out to loot the country for their own vanity and personal gain, again.
The most meaningful measure we can make of Jimmy Carter is whether we would prefer an imperfect, yet noble man like him at the helm of the country, today. I would. You? There you go.
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Fealty to Neoliberalism and Corporate-Friendly Trade Policy Is Why the Democrats Lost
The Harris campaign could have told a powerful story about turning the tables and standing up for workers against corporate greed. She decided not to do that.
Jan 03, 2025
"The left has never fully grappled with the wreckage of 50 years of neoliberalism,” Democratic Connecticut Sen. Chris Murphy wrote days after the election. “We cannot be afraid of fights, especially with the economic elites who have profited off neoliberalism.”
Indeed, the results of the 2024 election left many Democrats reeling. Once again, the very real frustrations many American voters have with their place in an increasingly complex and unequal global economy were exploited by a billionaire con man with a horrendous, hate-fueled agenda full of sweeping corporate giveaways.
Voters Wanted Economic Change
With the smoke cleared, we can see that there were a number of factors working against the Harris campaign and numerous pathways to victory that fell short. But it is undeniable that economic policy and messaging played a major role. Countless exit polls showed that dissatisfaction with the economy was the number one deciding issue for voters.
Take the three Rust Belt swing states of Wisconsin, Michigan, and Pennsylvania, for instance, where an average of 31% of voters said the economy was the most important factor in determining their decisions. Of these, 76% voted for U.S. President-elect Donald Trump. Sixty-six percent felt the economy was in bad shape, and of this group, 70% voted for Donald Trump.
It would be preposterous for Democrats—in the name of fighting Trumpism—to revert back to the corporate-dominated rules of free trade agreements that contributed to the economic damage felt by working people and drove them toward right-wing populism.
And then there’s Trumbull County, Ohio, home of the Lordstown GM plant where Trump had promised thousands of autoworkers he would save their jobs. And though all of those jobs went to Mexico during his presidency and he did nothing to stop it, Trump overperformed his 2020 numbers there by nearly four percentage points, while Vice President Kamala Harris underperformed President Joe Biden’s. Trump also overperformed his 2020 numbers to beat Harris in Racine County, Wisconsin, where he had promised 13,000 manufacturing jobs back in 2017 that never arrived. Worse, Harris underperformed Hillary Clinton’s 2016 total vote percentages in every Rust Belt state except Indiana.
The Rust Belt got its name because of bad trade deals. It’s where a lot of good manufacturing jobs used to be before the era of neoliberal corporate-trade policies arrived in the late 80s. Back then, Republican and Democratic leaders alike pushed the myth of free trade onto a working class that had just endured a wave of skyrocketing income inequality and attacks on unions by Ronald Reagan.
U.S. trade policy plays a central role in these voters’ dissatisfaction. Deep feelings of betrayal left behind by the era of free trade fueled all three of Donald Trump’s campaigns and allowed his litany of lies and false promises about protecting manufacturing jobs to win over many working-class voters.
Recognition of “Free Trade” Harms
President Biden, previously a supporter of traditional free trade deals, learned some important political lessons from 2016, and the 2020 Democratic primary pushed him to incorporate parts of the economic populist platform endorsed by the Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren campaigns. Many of the same swing-state voters who went to Trump in 2016 responded to that message and delivered the White House to Biden in 2020.
During Biden’s presidency, thanks to key personnel like U.S. Trade Representative Katherine Tai, the U.S. began moving away from the corporate-dominated deals of the past and made significant progress toward enacting a new “worker-centered” trade policy. And Biden matched this new approach with historic investments in new U.S. manufacturing to counteract job loss caused by past trade deals.
Instead of concluding free trade agreements, the administration promised that U.S. trade policy would serve, rather than undermine, these massive spending programs. There was more investment in new manufacturing facilities in the U.S. under Biden-Harris than at any point in more than three decades.
Trade Progress Uncelebrated
The Harris campaign could have told a powerful story about turning the tables and standing up for workers against corporate greed. They could have built a campaign, like Biden did in 2020, that took seriously the demands of the progressive wing of the party and the voters they inspired. They could have leaned into and promised to expand these progressive economic and trade policies. But the consultants and party strategists who helped guide them chose not to.
Instead, the campaign failed to credibly speak to the economic pain communities have been suffering and missed many opportunities to emphasize the very real progress the Biden administration made on that front. In speech after speech, Harris fell into Trump’s trap, arguing against tariffs that are supported by 56% of all voters, not just those in factory towns.
The campaign repeatedly attacked these popular tariffs, even disingenuously calling them a “sales tax,” despite the fact that the Biden-Harris administration had also strategically used tariffs to protect U.S. industries and manufacturing jobs.
With the Harris campaign not consistently communicating a populist economic agenda, Trump was once again able to sell his hateful brand of right-wing populism, falsely claiming that he alone was looking out for American manufacturing workers.
The Way Forward
It would be preposterous for Democrats—in the name of fighting Trumpism—to revert back to the corporate-dominated rules of free trade agreements that contributed to the economic damage felt by working people and drove them toward right-wing populism.
Instead, they should clearly and passionately outline a progressive, populist vision for trade that they will boldly implement when they retake power. They should demand large-scale changes that transform how our country works for working people.
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