Before Dismissing Democratic Socialism, Ask Why It’s Growing

Every time the phrase “democratic socialism” pops up in a political discussion, someone inevitably reacts as if a Soviet submarine has surfaced in the neighborhood swimming pool.

For many Americans, especially those who grew up during the Cold War, the word “socialism” comes with a lot of baggage. It evokes memories of school drills, the Iron Curtain, and endless warnings about communism. To some, the term sounds less like a political philosophy and more like a 1962 emergency broadcast.

Before dismissing democratic socialism outright, it might be worth asking a simple question:

Why is it growing?

The answer has less to do with Karl Marx and more to do with rent.

Younger voters aren’t advocating for government ownership of everything. Most aren’t spending their weekends debating nineteenth-century economic theory. They’re looking at housing costs, healthcare bills, student debt, stagnant wages, and wondering why the American Dream require a six-figure salary and three side hustles.

For them, democratic socialism serves as shorthand for a belief that the economy should work for more people, not just those at the very top.

Whether that diagnosis is correct is a matter for debate, but the concerns themselves are real.

The conversation becomes more interesting when demographics enter the picture.

Every day, roughly 10,000 Americans turn 18 and become eligible to vote. Every day, roughly 10,000 Americans also turn 65 and enter retirement age. One generation is stepping onto the political stage while another gradually exits it. That’s not a criticism of older voters. It’s how time flies. Elections are always a contest among the past, the present, and the future.

Political parties ignore these demographic shifts at their peril.

The emerging electorate is more diverse than any generation before it. Demographers project that by around 2045, the United States will become a “majority-minority” nation, meaning no single racial or ethnic group will constitute a majority of the population.

Whether that development excites or worries people, it represents a profound demographic change that will influence politics, culture, and public policy for decades.

In that context, the question are why young voters are embracing new ideas and why anyone would expect them not to.

After all, every generation rebels against the assumptions of the previous one.

The Baby Boomers challenged the norms of the 1950s. Generation X questioned institutions. Millennials entered adulthood during economic turmoil. Generation Z inherited housing prices that make Monopoly look affordable.

Given those circumstances, it shouldn’t be surprising that younger voters are exploring alternatives and asking questions about wealth, opportunity, and economic fairness.

Critics of democratic socialism argue that expanding government programs increases taxes, create inefficiencies, and weaken economic incentives. Supporters argue that today’s economy has produced a widening gap between those who have accumulated extraordinary wealth and those struggling to keep up with the cost of living.

Both sides make points worth discussing.

What gets lost in the shouting match is that many of the policies associated with democratic socialism already exist in America. Social Security, Medicare, public education, unemployment insurance, rural electrification, and public libraries were all controversial at one time.

I remember a political cartoon from the 1950s of a Russian truck dumping wheat in the ocean to prop up prices. The U.S. government subsidizes ag businesses the same way.

Today, most Americans view them as normal parts of civic life.

This doesn’t mean democratic socialism is right. It doesn’t mean capitalism is wrong.

It means the debate is more complicated than the labels.

For older Americans, “socialism”still conjures images of Cold War adversaries like Joseph Stalin’s work camps . For younger Americans, the term means affordable healthcare, attainable housing, stronger worker protections, and a chance to build a stable life.

The disconnect is less about ideology and more about vocabulary.

Before dismissing democratic socialism as a relic from another era or embracing it as the answer to every problem it’s worth listening to what its supporters say.

Political movements rarely grow by accident.

They grow when enough people feel that something isn’t working.

The label isn’t the story.

The story is why a growing number of Americans, especially younger Americans, believe the current system needs repair.

If that many future voters are asking the question, both political parties might want to pay closer attention because if something keeps surfacing in the political pool, it may be less useful to shout “submarine” and more useful to ask what’s driving it to the surface in the first place.

Growth on Our Terms: How Communities Can Take Control of the Digital Boom

Silicon Prairie: Episode 1

Alan O’Hashi, here. I’m a Wyoming native, having grown up in Cheyenne. I have a new American Outlands podcast called “Silicon Prairie” about the data center land rush in the Rocky Mountain West, although these monstrosities are popping up anywhere there’s vacant rural land.

My family moved to Laramie while I was a sophomore at Hastings College in Nebraska. Upon graduation, I had no job skills and sat out the post-Vietnam War recession in grad school at the University of Wyoming. I ended up taking a job with the city administration of Gillette, in northeast Wyoming.

There, I had my first experience with an economic boom cycle.

Economic booms and busts are as much a part of the Rocky Mountain West as dust storms, pickup trucks, and someone insisting this year’s growth “will be different.” The newest growth explosion thundering across the region and the nation isn’t gold or fossil fuel extraction. It’s what I call digital foundries that crunch cryptocurrency transactions, stream high-speed video content, and feed the ever-growing brain of Artificial Intelligence, otherwise known as AI.

In this five-part series, I’ll draw on my experience watching rural communities grapple with energy-driven growth spurts.

I’ll look at what happens when gigantic Digital Foundries arrive in places built for cattle, coal mines, or low-stress living, and suddenly require enormous amounts of electricity, water, land, and infrastructure.

Along with the promises of jobs and tax revenue come less glamorous realities: the constant hum of cooling fans, industrial-scale backup generators, and massive warehouse-like buildings rising from open prairie or ranchland. What looks like “the future” in a corporate brochure can feel very different when it’s humming outside your back fence at 2 a.m.

Beneath the big promises from digital economy backers, boom-and-bust questions arise: Who gets the water? Who pays for the power? And who’s left holding the bag when the boom cycle ends?

I took my first job in the Powder River Basin at the onset of the coal boom. I remember driving from Laramie to Gillette, sight unseen, after surviving the Big Thompson Flood, and dropping out of grad school to take my first job with the city government in 1977.

When I drove into town, my first stop was 611 Kendrick Street, where I crammed into the light green, one-bathroom house I shared with four other guys. The water from the tap smelled like rotten eggs, with crud floating in it.

That was just the beginning.

Welcome to what sociologists call the “Gillette Syndrome.” Too many people swarmed into a small town. The locals quit their jobs as EMTs, store clerks, and school teachers to become dump truck drivers and coal shovel operators. The rapidly expanding population outstripped the community’s ability to keep pace.

The place was nutty back then: lots of guys with a lot of money and nowhere to spend it. Then-mayor Mike Enzi dubbed Gillette the “Energy Capitol of the Nation.” Mike went on to represent Wyoming in the U.S. Senate.

I was part of a team of carpetbagging young professionals who moved to town to increase the town’s capacity to handle growth. As much as we wanted to make things better, we all became part of the juggernaut.

Governor Ed Herschler famously coined the phrase “Growth on Our Terms.” Easygoing Gov. Ed had no problem wrestling with the fossil fuels industry. In 1975, he signed the Industrial Siting Act into law and established the Industrial Siting Council (ISC). At the time, the ISC was primarily concerned with permitting energy projects and their effects on communities.

Although many viewed Gillette and Campbell County as politically conservative strongholds for a long time, these two entities took the lead in the state by developing a comprehensive regional plan early on. Gillette had approved one of the state’s strongest zoning codes.

Gillette officials worked hand in glove with the ISC as coal mines moved through the permitting process. Companies were required to construct employee housing, pay for public street improvements, and expand parkland.

Campbell County and Wyoming have reaped the benefits of the fossil fuel boom over the past 50 years and are now seeking the next commodity. As with every other bust cycle, some folks pack up, and others will stay. This time around, what are the positive benefits and negative consequences of the digital Foundry migration coming of age in Wyoming?

What can communities learn from the coal boom? Microsoft, Meta, and Google want to expand across the vast, open prairies. The digital data boom won’t require as much labor as the fossil fuels industry, but an integrated approach can address other issues, such as electricity and water consumption, and excessive noise.

With Digital Foundries as core resources rather than standalone entities, and a little foresight, Digital Foundries can anchor successful mixed-use environments.

The commercial offices and research and development facilities surrounding the Digital Foundry are a natural fit for businesses that rely on its high-speed connectivity and computational power. This creates an innovation hub where technology companies, startups, and research institutions can collocate, fostering collaboration.

What will digital foundry communities look like? The residential component of a Digital Foundry would appeal to residents who work in the tech hub, value an efficient lifestyle, and enjoy unique amenities, including year-round fresh produce from on-site greenhouses. The development would have a distinct identity, driven by its technological and ecological integration.

A Digital Foundry is a building and a foundational anchor that can generate energy and heat and provide high-speed internet connectivity. By designing with a city planning mindset, potential problems such as the need for a steady source of power, heat, cooling, and mitigating sound pollution are reimagined as opportunities that create resilient and economically vibrant communities.

I visited a data center east of Cheyenne. Inside, I saw the behemoth brains of the futuristic cloud flashing and sending information into cyberspace. The sprawling industrial machine consumed staggering amounts of electricity and water just to keep the digital world spinning.

Digital Foundries across the West are arriving faster than the infrastructure needed to support them. In Silicon Prairie Episode Two, I’ll explore what happens when the digital economy competes with towns, farms, and families for electricity.

In episode 2, I’ll explore what happens when digital-foundry carpetbaggers roll into town promising jobs and economic development, and the community isn’t prepared to handle the sudden growth.

From Taboo to Trendy: What Happened to Japanese Culture?

I wandered through the Rocket Fizz candy store today, looking for a Goo Goo Cluster. On the way out, a shelf packed with Japanese candy sidetracked me.

Matcha Kit Kats.

Pocky.

Gummies in flavors I can’t pronounce.

A few days ago, I read about a Japanese convenience store opening in Longmont, Kawaii Conbini.

Part of me smiles.

Another part of me wonders, “What happened?”

I’m Japanese American. Growing up, my Nisei parents did not celebrate being Japanese. They tried not to attract attention to it.

America had spent years teaching them that being visibly Japanese was dangerous.

My parents belonged to the generation shaped by World War II and its aftermath. The U.S. government code led Americans to believe that the Japanese should be viewed with suspicion.

More than 125,000 people of Japanese ancestry were forced from their homes and sent to incarceration camps.

The lesson my parents learned was straightforward.

Speak English.

Don’t make waves.

Don’t draw attention to yourself.

Don’t give anyone a reason to see you as different.

The result was cultural amnesia.

The Japanese language disappeared from my house. Traditional customs faded. My parents encouraged me to become as American as possible.

I remember a time when Japanese food was considered strange. Sushi was exotic. Anime was niche. Asian products occupied a tiny corner of specialty stores. I packed my lunch when I was in junior high school. I never included maki sushi or teriyaki chicken, two of my faves to this day.

Today, the situation is the reverse.

Sushi is sold in supermarkets. Anime fills Comic-Con events. Japanese video games dominate popular culture. Japanese cars became symbols of quality and reliability.

People seek out Japanese knives, Japanese whiskey, Japanese electronics, and Japanese candy.

What changed?

The generations that fought World War II are largely gone. For younger Americans, Japan is not associated with wartime enemies. It is associated with technology, design, food, entertainment, and innovation.

Another factor is globalization.

When I was growing up, culture moved slowly. Today, a teenager in Wyoming can watch the same anime series as a teenager in Tokyo. A TikTok video featuring a Japanese snack can reach millions of viewers overnight. The world has become smaller.

That’s how I learned about Goo Goo Clusters. When I was in Nashville for a cohousing conference, I tried the caramel-peanut-chocolate candy for the first time. Prior to 1912, candy consisted of one ingredient. A Goo Goo Cluster was the first to combine a variety of ingredients.

America has changed, too.

The old expectation was assimilation. The goal was to become indistinguishable from everyone else.

Today, there’s a greater appreciation for cultural diversity. Americans are curious about differences rather than fearful of them. Food, music, language, and traditions once viewed as foreign are now opportunities to learn something new.

That doesn’t mean prejudice has disappeared. It hasn’t.

There’s been a shift, and the irony is impossible to ignore.

My parents grew up in a world where being Japanese made you a target. Today, consumers seek out Japanese products.

The candy aisle at Rocket Fizz may seem trivial, but standing there, I couldn’t help thinking about the cultural journey.

Maybe that’s progress, or a reminder that cultures survive when people are pressured to set them aside and wait for a new generation to rediscover them.

As I looked at those shelves of Japanese candy, I thought about my parents.

They spent much of their lives trying not to stand out.

I wish they could have seen a day when the once suspicious stood in line because they wanted a taste of what being Japanese had to offer.

Rocket Fizz did carry Goo Goo Clusters, but it was an expensive gift pack. I’ll wait to get one the next time I’m near a Cracker Barrel.