Opinion | The Elites Had It Coming

Everyone has a moment when he first realized that Donald Trump might well return, and here is mine. It was back in March, during a visit to the Smithsonian’s National Portrait Gallery, when I happened to read the explanatory text beside an old painting. This note described the westward advance of the United States in the 19th century as “settler colonialism.” I read it, and I knew instantly where this nation was going.

My problem with this bit of academic jargon was not that it was wrong, per se, or that President Biden was somehow responsible for putting it there but rather that it offered a glimpse of our poisoned class relations. Some curator at one of our most exalted institutions of public instruction had decided to use a currently fashionable, morally loaded academic keyword to address a visitor to the museum — say, a family from the Midwest, doing the round of national shrines — and teach them a lesson about American wickedness.

Twenty years ago I published a book about politics in my home state of Kansas where white, working-class voters seemed to be drifting into the arms of right-wing movements. I attributed this, in large part, to the culture wars, which the right framed in terms of working-class agony. Look at how these powerful people insult our values!, went the plaint, whether they were talking about the theory of evolution or the war on Christmas.

This was worth pointing out because working people were once the heart and soul of left-wing parties all over the world. It may seem like a distant memory, but not long ago, the left was not a movement of college professors, bankers or high-ranking officers at Uber or Amazon. Working people: That’s what parties of the left were very largely about. The same folks who just expressed such remarkable support for Donald Trump.

My Kansas story was mainly about Republicans, but I also wrote about the way the Democrats were gradually turning away from working people and their concerns. Just think of all those ebullient Democratic proclamations in the ’90s about trade and tech and globalization and financial innovation. What a vision they had: All those manifestoes about futurific wired workers or the learning class, all those speeches about how Democrats had to leave the worker-centric populism of the 1930s behind them, all those brilliant triangulations and reaching out to the right. When I was young, it seemed that every rising leader in the Democratic Party was making those points. That was the way to win voters in what they called the center, the well-educated suburbanites and computer-literate professionals everybody admired.

Well, those tech-minded Democrats got exactly what they set out to get, and now here we are. At the Republican convention in July, JD Vance described the ruination visited on his working-class town in Ohio by NAFTA and trade with China, both of which he blamed at least in part on Mr. Biden, and also the human toll taken by the Iraq war, which he also contrived to blame on Mr. Biden. Today Mr. Vance is the vice president-elect, and what I hope you will understand, what I want you to mull over and take to heart and remember for the rest of your life, is that he got there by mimicking the language that Americans used to associate with labor, with liberals, with Democrats.

By comparison, here is Barack Obama in 2016, describing to Bloomberg Businessweek his affinity for the private sector: “Just to bring things full circle about innovation — the conversations I have with Silicon Valley and with venture capital pull together my interests in science and organization in a way I find really satisfying.”

I hope Mr. Obama finds his silicon satisfaction. I hope the men of capital whose banks he bailed out during the financial crisis show a little gratitude and build him the biggest, most expensive, most innovative presidential library of them all. But his party is in ruins today, without a leader and without a purpose.

It would have been nice if the Democrats could have triangulated their way into the hearts of enough educated and affluent suburbanites to make up for the working-class voters they’ve lost over the years, but somehow that strategy rarely works out. They could have gone from boasting about Dick Cheney’s endorsement to becoming a version of Mr. Cheney themselves, and it still wouldn’t have been enough. A party of the left that identifies with people like Mr. Cheney is a contradiction in terms, a walking corpse.

For a short time in the last few years, it looked as if the Democrats might actually have understood all this. What the Biden administration did on antitrust and manufacturing and union organizing was never really completed but it was inspiring. Framed the right way, it might have formed the nucleus of a strong appeal to the voters Mr. Trump has stolen away. Kamala Harris had the skills: She spoke powerfully at the Democratic convention about a woman’s right to choose and Mr. Trump’s unfitness for high office. Speaker after speaker at the gathering in Chicago blasted the Republicans for their hostility to working people. There was even a presentation about the meaning of the word “populism.” At times it felt like they were speaking to me personally.

At the same time, the convention featured lots of saber-rattling speeches hailing America’s awesome war-making abilities. The administration’s achievements on antitrust were barely mentioned. There was even a presentation by the governor of Illinois, an heir to the Hyatt hotel fortune, in which he boasted of being a real billionaire, not a fake one like Donald Trump supposedly is, and the assembled Democrats cheered their heads off for this fortunate son. Then, once Ms. Harris’s campaign got rolling, it largely dropped economic populism, wheeled out another billionaire and embraced Liz Cheney.

Mr. Trump, meanwhile, put together a remarkable coalition of the disgruntled. He reached out to everyone with a beef, from Robert Kennedy Jr. to Elon Musk. From free-speech guys to book banners. From Muslims in Michigan to anti-immigration zealots everywhere. “Trump will fix it,” declared the signs they waved at his rallies, regardless of which “it” you had in mind.

Republicans spoke of Mr. Trump’s persecution by liberal prosecutors, of how he was censored by Twitter, of the incredible strength he showed after being shot. He was an “American Bad Ass,” in the words of Kid Rock. And clucking liberal pundits would sometimes respond to all this by mocking the very concept of grievance, as though discontent itself were the product of a diseased mind.

Liberals had nine years to decipher Mr. Trump’s appeal — and they failed. The Democrats are a party of college graduates, as the whole world understands by now, of Ph.D.s and genius-grant winners and the best consultants money can buy. Mr. Trump is a con man straight out of Mark Twain; he will say anything, promise anything, do nothing. But his movement baffled the party of education and innovation. Its most brilliant minds couldn’t figure him out.

I have been writing about these things for 20 years, and I have begun to doubt that any combination of financial disaster or electoral chastisement will ever turn on the lightbulb for the liberals. I fear that ’90s-style centrism will march on, by a sociological force of its own, until the parties have entirely switched their social positions and the world is given over to Trumpism.

Can anything reverse it? Only a resolute determination by the Democratic Party to rededicate itself to the majoritarian vision of old: a Great Society of broad, inclusive prosperity. This means universal health care and a higher minimum wage. It means robust financial regulation and antitrust enforcement. It means unions and a welfare state and higher taxes on billionaires, even the cool ones. It means, above all, liberalism as a social movement, as a coming together of ordinary people — not a series of top-down reforms by well-meaning professionals.

That seems a long way away today. But the alternative is — what? To blame the voters? To scold the world for failing to see how noble we are? No. It will take the opposite sentiment — solidarity — to turn the world right side up again.

Thomas Frank is the author, most recently, of “The People, No.”

The Times is committed to publishing a diversity of letters to the editor. We’d like to hear what you think about this or any of our articles. Here are some tips. And here’s our email: letters@nytimes.com.

Follow the New York Times Opinion section on Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, WhatsApp, X and Threads.