United States | News & Politics

A very good look at the severe problems with how certain campaigns are run, the way certain people just fail upwards in the Democratic party, and the huge gap that can exist between media impact/prevalence and actual on the ground reality.

Also a weirdo 21 year old organising a campaign complaining about communism and usual signs of liberals sticking their head in the sand because anything that might critique them is automatically "helping [Republican opponent]".

While Cruz underperformed Trump in counties across the state, Allred also underperformed in almost all of the state’s most populous counties—most of which already swing Democratic—and barely won more than Beto O’Rourke’s 2018 total. The loss was so bad that Texas’s longtime Democratic Party chair, Gilberto Hinojosa, stepped down—but not before he partly blamed Democrats’ loss on the party’s support for trans rights.

Texas Democrats perennially claim to be on the brink of turning the state blue, but this latest beatdown ought to be the first that yields a true reckoning with why the party continually disappoints in elections in a state which, the party sages tell us, demographically ought to be shifting to their advantage. But given the recent tenor from the party’s centrist wing, from Hinojosa down to his Gen Z heirs apparent, the lesson of Allred’s loss—that no amount of money or online clout can paper over a candidate’s weaknesses—could just as easily fall on deaf ears.

[...]

In his concession speech last week, Allred stumbled through a Winston Churchill quote: “Courage is the first of human qualities because it is the quality which guarantees all the others.” It took courage, he said, for him and his supporters to “participate in an American election,” despite the odds against them. Yet Allred’s strategy reeked of cowardice. Mirroring the Harris campaign, Allred ran to the right on the border and threw trans people under the bus. Counter to Harris, Allred tried differentiating himself from Biden, even voting to condemn his “open-borders policies.” It wasn’t enough.

The Democratic Party prefers candidates—particularly in red states—who can raise a lot of money quickly. Allred visited just 34 of Texas’s 254 counties, signaling an aversion to public confrontation, but spent a mind-boggling $57.75 million on advertising and marketing to make up for it. How? He relied heavily on donation centers in other states, particularly the suburbs of Washington, D.C., receiving far fewer small-dollar donations in-state and leaning on political action committees to make up the difference. When journalists and friendly critics pointed out the obvious risks to this strategy, Monique Alcala, the executive director of the Texas Democratic Party, said on X that they were “spreading misinformation” and should “please—sit down.”* As Brandon Rottinghaus told Texas Monthly, “Beto worked from the bottom up, and Allred worked from the top down.”

As early as the primary, fellow Texas Democrats were ringing alarm bells about a wayward campaign. But online, Allred’s team seemed more interested in squashing intraparty dissent than winning in November. After Jen Ramos, a member of the Texas Democratic Party’s executive committee, told The Texas Tribune in August that Allred was taking the party’s liberal base for granted, “a group of influencers and organizers went out of their way to discredit me,” Ramos told me, adding that she was accused of “aiding and abetting Ted Cruz.”

Olivia Julianna, a 21-year-old influencer who spoke at this year’s Democratic National Convention and was advising the Allred campaign on “youth voter turnout,” took a similar line to Alcala, writing on X in the wake of the Tribune article: “Anyone saying Colin Allred hasn’t intentionally engaged the base or traveled the state is spreading misinformation and frankly helping Ted Cruz’s campaign divide the Democratic Party.” Since last week’s election, Julianna has been ranting online against “communism,” as if a tiny ideological milieu in the U.S.—let alone Texas—played a major role in their loss.

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Meanwhile, Allred’s outreach to farmers, who make up 14 percent of the state’s workforce—and more than 12 percent of the U.S. total, by far the most of any state—was sporadic at best. Clayton Tucker, a rancher and chair of the Lampasas Democratic Party (based in a 712-square-mile county with a population of fewer than 24,000), said between the crowded Democratic primary and Election Day, there was “quite a dry spell” in communication. Tucker lobbied hard for Allred to appear before farmers and lay out his vision. Finally, in October, weeks away from the election, Allred joined Tucker in Lubbock, a college town just below the Panhandle, for a small roundtable to address their concerns. “That’s important work,” Tucker ceded, “but it needed to be more at scale.”

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The more cynical among us might view this as a racket. Consider the case of Isaiah Martin, a centrist Gen Z Houstonian and friend of Julianna’s who briefly ran for Congress. In September 2023, he posted a single ad that went viral, landing him on MSNBC to talk about his vision for the country. He acquired Annika Albrecht, who previously worked for Blue Dog Representative Marie Gluesenkamp Perez, as his campaign manager, raised about $400,000 (mostly from donors outside his district), and, a couple months later, unceremoniously dropped out. Despite his electoral face-plant, he became an influencer touring the country for the Harris campaign. The Texas Democratic Party is replete with “organizers” such as these, who seem always to fail upward. Other longtime Democrats have pointed to MJ Hegar as a similar problem: She raised all that money, and where is she now? (Far from the limelight, working for Deloitte.)

“There’s not much money to be made when you invest in grassroots,” Tucker told The New Republic. “I think we’re too culturally obsessed with commercials and mailers. Speaking for myself, no mailer or commercial has ever convinced me of anything, but a conversation, whether that’s over the phone or in person, has.”

Some have given up on the “demographics as destiny” argument, in which liberals assumed the changing racial makeup of the state would inevitably mean Democrats would sweep into power. Tucker, for instance, said an emphasis on economic populism is popular in the rural counties that lie devastated, to this day, by Nafta. But even as the demographic myth lies dying, the next one has been born: that young people, armed with technology and social media, will connect with voters to drive a blue wave.