Rebuild the Dream (12 page)

THE SECOND AND THIRD SECTIONS
of this book will explore ways that we might be able to reconstitute a people-powered movement for hope and change. I insist that we learn the right lessons from the successes of the Obama 2008 campaign, the Tea Party, and Occupy Wall Street. I warn that we must return to our authentic roots and remain fundamentally independent of any party, politician, or personality. The way forward, I suggest, is through the door blown open by the 2011 explosion of economic protests—from Wisconsin to Wall Street.

Before we do that, though, we must examine what went wrong—and get a better understanding of why our beautiful movement went from hope to heartbreak.

J
UST TWENTY
-
FOUR MONTHS AFTER
O
BAMA
'
S
breathtaking victory in 2008, the advocates of hope and change were decimated at the ballot box. The grassroots tidal wave that had captured Congress and then elected a president had vanished.

Frustration, disappointment, and bitterness sidelined millions of once-enthusiastic Obama voters. Meanwhile a ferocious right-wing backlash stole the show. In the end, the November 2010 midterm elections cost the Democrats six seats in the Senate and sixty-three seats in the House (the biggest gain for Republicans there since 1938).

Why did the “hope bubble” burst? I have concluded that a handful of fateful decisions and missed opportunities—missteps by
both the White House and, more importantly, by independent progressives outside of government—are to blame.

This analysis forces me to speculate about “roads not taken” during that period, imagining and describing other strategies that might have yielded better outcomes. Whether the reader agrees with my conclusions or not, I think this process of probing alternative scenarios is an important exercise. Too often, past events appear as if they were somehow inevitable. We tend to downplay the directions that history did not take; we tell ourselves that it is a waste of time to sit around thinking about what might have been.

Sometimes it is, but not always. Often we can learn as much from what did
not
happen as we can learn from the events that actually transpired.

For instance, in hindsight, it seems obvious that the creaky Clinton machine and the fading McCain brand would prove no match for the Obama phenomenon. But his triumph seemed far from a sure thing on that cold February morning in 2007, when the freshman U.S. senator launched his long-shot bid.

The truth is, had U.S. senator Hillary Clinton simply disavowed her war vote, stayed out of the Iowa caucus (as she had planned to do), and hired some fresh, hungry talent to drive her campaign instead of saddling herself with Mark Penn, she probably would be in the Oval Office right now. It is simply impossible to understand the rise of candidate Obama without also understanding the missteps and mistakes of his opponents.

On the day Obama was inaugurated, the subsequent rise and triumph of conservative libertarians was hardly imaginable. The collapse of the movement for hope and change was not inevitable. To the contrary, the millions of people flooding the nation's capital to celebrate Obama's swearing in seemed like an invincible force. We cannot understand how the Tea Partiers redirected American
politics without scrutinizing the mistakes Team Obama and the broader movement made in leaving the door open for them, underestimating them and then missing opportunities to check their advance in 2009–2010.

WHERE DID THE FORCES
that elected Obama go wrong? My theory is simple: the movement did not crash primarily because the losers of 2008 created a fear machine. It crashed because the winners of 2008 mishandled, and inadvertently dismantled, the hope machine.

As I described in the last chapter, the pro-democracy movement had been growing and evolving since 2003. It poured its genius and numbers, its heart and soul, into the Obama for America campaign. After the election was over, however, it found that it could not retrieve its assets.

Obama had promised that the movement would not end but would continue after the election. True to his word, Obama maintained the campaign infrastructure as a permanent field campaign, Organizing for America (OFA), which became an arm of the Democratic National Committee (DNC).

This step was one that no sitting president had ever taken. Modern presidents had maintained permanent media campaigns to buy ads and shape public opinion. But a permanent field staff with professional organizers, an online team, and boots on the ground? That was unheard of. Given that OFA would start off with 13 million e-mail addresses—making it instantly among the
largest political organizations in the country—the potential for transformative change was undeniable.

Hard-core activists rejoiced, believing that a bottom-up movement had effectively swallowed the DNC. In the end, many were left feeling that the reverse had happened: the top-down DNC had effectively swallowed the movement.

OFA's mandate confused people. On the one hand, it was ambitious—from the perspective of the Washington status quo. On the other hand, it was very narrow and limited—from the perspective of grassroots outsiders who longed to build an unstoppable, people's movement.

The audacity of the undertaking was impressive: it is no small task to convert a campaign apparatus into a permanent grassroots force, especially one that is charged with passing legislation, growing the Democratic Party, and preparing to reelect a president. As a mechanism to meet those goals, OFA worked very well.

This was, in part, because OFA was a true workhorse. In 2009, the organization held an average of 819 local events across the country each week. The organization was daring enough to experiment with a range of tactics—from crowd-sourcing television ads, to sponsoring days of community service—to build up the social capital within its ranks. In the first year alone, staffers conducted 8,649 one-hour, one-on-one conversations with members, to keep its most dedicated activists committed and plugged in. In its first two years, the organization added 2.6 million members; more than 5 million people took action through its auspices. It turned out to be indispensable in the fight to pass legislation, especially national health insurance reform. Well in advance of the
2012 reelection campaign, OFA created a standing army without peer.

But while it focused on those daunting tasks, OFA did not make room for—nor give full expression to—the energy and yearnings that made 2008 so dynamic and exciting. Of course, some drop in focus and energy after the campaign was inevitable. Electoral campaigns are defined by a clear objective, limited in time, and focused on a single opponent. The challenge of maintaining activist commitments during the long, tough, and open-ended slog of governing is much harder.

Nonetheless, OFA became the object of intense criticism, as disappointed Obama supporters accused it of being uninspiring, undemocratic, and too afraid to rock the boat inside the Democratic Party. The agendas of the White House and DNC now reflected the day-to-day challenges of governing; they were no longer feeding and stoking the high-minded idealism upon which the Obama campaign was based. Yet those very ideals had been the source of attraction for many of those 13 million. As an appendage of the DNC, OFA could not drag the establishment in brave new directions; it was expected to help the people support the Democrats, not to make the Democrats answer to the people.

The problem was baked into the cake from the very beginning. First of all, the DNC took OFA on as a “community-organizing project.” For some, this very designation and mission statement caused immediate concern. Not everyone who participated in the Obama campaign was a Democrat or trusted the DNC; there were left-leaning and moderate independents, Green Party members, and even Republicans who worked hard to elect Obama. Rather than being supported and equipped as an independent “movement” organization, the movement was being forced to become an adjunct of the national party.

As part of the DNC, OFA's mission was to “mobilize supporters in favor of Obama's legislative priorities.” This narrow mission did not precisely align with the expectations of many Obama supporters; some had expected to continue mobilizing and fighting for change in the same creative way that had prevailed during the campaign. This misalignment was not just a problem at the level of abstract principle. The list of 13 million Obama supporters was the movement's key asset. But it was now controlled by the DNC; therefore, there were limits on what OFA members could do together—and whom they could do it to.

For example, the list could not be used to fight in a no-holds-barred way for change, if such a fight required battling it out with Democrats. During the first year of the Obama presidency, Republicans, who had no power in the House and had to fight to maintain a filibuster in the Senate, were not the only obstacles to far-reaching legislation. Serious challenges came from the more conservative Democrats. An independent organization could have challenged the Blue Dogs to do more. It could have helped leaders in any party who wanted to win real change. But as a project of the DNC, OFA could not openly battle it out with Democrats, no matter how bad some of them were. Nor could it openly support Republicans, libertarians, Green Party members, or independents, no matter how good they were.

Also, as designed, OFA members could not mobilize people to change the president's legislative priorities—or oppose them. It was set up to support the president's priorities, whatever they happened to be. And those priorities could, and would, change, after the campaign.

Another problem was simply a matter of style. Magic is hard to measure, but lasting movements do need a sense of drama and spectacle, including huge rallies, massive marches, and star-studded
events, to keep the spirit of the effort alive. A popular cause is powered by dramatic mass mobilization. It feeds on conflict and competition. A crusade requires idealism and aspiration, including voices and ideas that go beyond the perceived limits of the possible.

OFA did not take this approach; the organization was mainly known for asking people to donate online and to make phone calls to Congress people. It was confined by the insider strategy, which the DNC and the White House pursued. Rather than mobilizing the people and then cutting a deal with opponents from a position of strength, the White House tended to seek a deal first and then use OFA to mobilize people to fight for the pre-compromised position. This approach may have made sense inside the halls of power, but it left many grassroots supporters cold.

Vocal critics complained that OFA seemed to be characterized by too much one-way communication; it lacked the kind of “we're all around the campfire together” feel of the Obama campaign. OFA could never restore or replicate the feelings of excitement and self-empowerment that had been rising before Obama ran and reached a crescendo during the campaign.

Other conceptions of OFA's identity and role, however unlikely, were at least possible. Obama could have taken a cue from former Vermont governor Howard Dean. After his path-breaking 2004 run, Dean converted his campaign organization into an independent group. Thus, Dean for America became Democracy for America (DFA). Dean went on to become the head of the DNC, but he did not fold DFA into the DNC. He kept the organization independent of the party; as a result, DFA remains an important independent force to this day.

In an idealized world, one could imagine president-elect Obama saying, “Listen, I'm going to be head of state and head of the Democratic Party. But I'm going to trust these 13 million
people to talk to each other, make proposals to each other, and vote on them online, to form their own sub-groups, pool their own money, sometimes to oppose me, sometimes to support me. This is going to be a people-owned, people-powered organization. OFA will be holding online elections for a national governing board to guide the operations. As a former community organizer, I have decided to entrust and empower these 13 million people to fight for change in the way that they want, not just the way that I want. I know that more good things will happen for America that way.”

In the real world, Team Obama had no incentive to make such a decision or declaration. It would have meant giving up direct control of its most valuable asset outside of the halls of government. And it could have led to a disaster. What if irresponsible people had somehow managed to highjack or cripple the organization? It is perfectly understandable that Team Obama would try to keep control of the force it had consolidated—and use it to help in governing. Nonetheless, OFA could have been designed to be more empowering—with more invitations and opportunities for self-organization, even if it challenged Obama at times. OFA also could have been given a mission to shake up the status quo—by fighting to get big money out of politics, or by raising a big “war chest” to go after Congressional opponents of change in either party.