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.

Small Ways to Make a Big Difference in 2026

If you watch the news every day, you’d think the world is spinning out of control and that life in America couldn’t possibly be worse. Chaos is everywhere. Nothing is working. Everything is broken.

Here’s something worth remembering as we step into 2026. The news isn’t a record of normal life. It’s a record of exceptions.

Roughly 100,000 airplane flights land safely every single day. No one reports on that. What makes the headlines is the one flight that nearly misses another by a few thousand feet. One rare, frightening moment becomes the story, while the ordinary success disappears into the atmosphere. I was on a flight that made an emergency landing in Oklahoma City after a cockpit fire.

We consume the world the same way.

Some people struggle, some far more than most. The economic imbalance in this country is real and long-standing. The top 10% of Americans hold nearly 60% of the nation’s wealth and control over 93% of the stock market. Meanwhile, the bottom 50%, most of us are included here, share only about 2.5 to 3% of total wealth.

That gap didn’t start yesterday, and it isn’t shocking anymore, which is exactly why it rarely makes headlines.

What doesn’t get covered is the homeless family struggling day after day, because that story has become tragically ordinary. Ironically, the moment that family does make the news is when a Good Samaritan shows up with a check and a camera, because that visible act of generosity is the exception.

I know my life isn’t newsworthy. I do well enough to get by. I’m not worried about myself. I’ll admit that I often feel stuck when I wonder how I can actually make life better for someone else in 2026.

I don’t have thousands of dollars to give away. I’m not going to trend on social media for doing the right thing. Maybe that’s the point.

What One Person Can Do in 2026

Making a difference doesn’t require a headline. It requires consistency. Here are a few ways I’m thinking about showing up quietly and imperfectly in the year ahead:

  • Support locally and repeatedly. On “Giving Tuesday,” I donate $5 to a bunch of small nonprofits. I either know someone who works there or have received services from them. Small and consistent giving matters more than one dramatic gesture. The image is from a night the Bethel Methodist Church volunteers served dinner at the Boulder Homeless Shelter.
  • Pay attention to proximity. The people who need help most are often the ones closest to us, like our neighbors, coworkers, and families in our community. Noticing is the first step.
  • Use skills, not just money. Skills such as teaching, writing, mentoring, repairing, and organizing can improve life in ways cash alone doesn’t.
  • Tell better stories. Share stories of resilience and dignity, rather than those about crisis. Remind people that struggle doesn’t erase humanity.
  • Vote with time and intention. Where we spend our time, our energy, and who wins our votes, quietly shapes the future more than outrage ever will.
  • Be a steady presence. Showing up again and again, especially when no one is watching, is how trust is built.

Widen your lens 2026

The start of a new year is when we usually turn inward. We resolve to lose weight, get a better job, quit gambling, drink less, and do more yoga. Those are good, necessary goals. Taking care of ourselves matters.

I don’t know anyone who truly wishes ill will on others. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t, at least in principle, want the world to be better than it is. Most of us are overwhelmed and not cruel. I get tired. I’m unsure where to begin.

In 2026, here’s where I’m starting.

Do good, and do no harm.

If you can help, help.
If you can’t help, don’t hurt.
If you’re unsure what to do, choose kindness over indifference.

I know that I can’t fix everything in the world. I doubt that I’ll grab a headline or a viral Facebook moment.

As we move into 2026, my hope for myself and for anyone reading this is that we strive to improve our own lives while remembering we’re not alone in this. Each of us needs to make one choice today that leaves someone else a little better off than they were before they crossed your path.

It might look like patience.
It might look like listening.
It might look like showing up when it’s inconvenient.

Those choices aren’t newsworthy, but they make life livable.

That’s a future worth building.

Leave a comment

← Back

Thank you for your response. ✨

Understanding the Tipping Point of Social Movements

I’m on the lookout for new stories. When Hemingway ran out of ideas, he joined the Army. I’m curious, but not that curious. There was another No Kings rally on October 18th. I used to go to those. I went to one in April and stayed home in June. The most recent time, I watched Wyoming football, and rationalized that I was at Boulder’s Central Park in spirit.

The rally I attended in April felt to me like a mix between a block party and a civics class. A few thousand of us milled around on South Broadway outside the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) building, along with a couple of my neighbors and some acquaintances.

The Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) purged a bunch of scientists soon after the Inauguration in January. Weather research and forecasting had become too political. Climate change will do that. I made a sign that read “Melt ICE,” and caught the bus with a crowd of like-minded people. The slogan is a double entendre, referencing global warming thawing the icecaps, and ICE rounding up immigrants and sending them to points unknown.

We chanted and waved our signs. There were a few horn honks from well-wishers driving by.

The only real drama came when a red pickup roared by and blasted us with black diesel smoke. That was a rolling metaphor for the times.

The plume reminded me of the time I was walking in a crowd when soldiers tear-gassed us after Nixon’s inauguration in 1973. It’s ironic that I was waving my sign, since my first presidential vote was for Nixon and I was president of the now-infamous College Republicans at the University of Wyoming. I’m still regretting that vote.

It was chilly in April. We’d seen enough. The crowd dispersed, and we walked back toward town.

The pundits said these rallies mattered because democracy depends on people in the streets. The next morning, the same president was still in office, with the only visible change being that the dumpsters were now full of clever slogans scrawled on signs.

The rally in April stoked me up. I made a hat with my “Melt ICE” slogan. It gets reactions. Some are supportive, while others, not so much, but at least it starts conversations.

The novelty had worn off, and I had sat out the June event, but I was ready to go in October until I lost interest.

“The movement has lost steam,” I said to myself. There were too many mixed messages. Too many baby boomer faces who’d been protesting since Nixon, now armed with newer cardboard. The energy was real, but it felt scattered.

Then I heard the numbers.

The time I turned out in April, about 3 million marched.

In June, the number bloomed to around 5 million.

News reports estimated 7 million had hit the streets nationwide on October 18th.

That’s not a slump. That’s a surge.

What’s more interesting to me is who showed up. According to a survey from American University, women comprised 57 percent, and most were highly educated.

At first glance, that’s the same old coalition, but the data tell another story. Local media indicated campus groups joined in from places like Penn State, Towson University, and the University of Florida.

The same poll found that the median age of protesters in Washington, D.C. was 44. Younger voices mixed into the chorus.

I’m a Malcolm Gladwell fan. He wrote The Tipping PointNo Kings feels like what Gladwell defined as the mysterious moment when an idea stops needing to be pushed and starts growing under its own power.

Something has shifted over the past six months. Young people are showing up. Folks who don’t fit the old protester profile are finding their way into the crowd.

Maybe they don’t know exactly why they’re milling around, but they know they are mad as hell and not going to take it any more.

When democracy wakes up groggy, it’s slobbery, noisy, sluggish, but undeniably alive. Movements begin with emotion, not policy. It’s evolution, not chaos.

Maybe I was wrong to stand on the sidelines admiring the T-shirts with clever slogans and frog costumes. Spontaneous growth is immune to counter-messages.

Detractors paint the millions and millions of us as anti-American and paid to riot. I must have missed the gravy train.

The naysayers claim photos and videos documenting the 2,500 events around all 50 states were created by AI.

Pay no mind to the conspiracy theorists behind the curtain.

We each only have control over what we can control. The tipping point creates change on its own. For some, that’s marching. For me, it’s about mentoring, voting, or engaging with people who disagree with me.

The four-hour No Kings events are about participation. Being around people of like minds leads to the long, quiet actions that last beyond the rants and raves.

March if you must for the day, but keep moving, because change doesn’t live on a poster board.

Change begins in the streets, and tipping points gain momentum when the news cycle shifts to the next mass shooting or devastating flood.

No Kings rallies echo past protests. Now the crowds have expanded since April. The message is spreading, and people who once stayed home are finding their way into the crowds. Parents push baby strollers down the sidewalk. Kids show up and pass footballs around the medians.

It doesn’t matter where you are on the sociopolitical spectrum. Make something better. Make someone think. Make noise when the streets are quiet.

Copy and Paste this Post to Your Social Media

The No Kings rallies started as echoes of the past with the same signs and outrage. Something’s shifting. The crowds are growing. The energy is younger. The message is spreading.
What began as protests is turning into practice. We can’t control the whole storm, only how we show up in it. March if you must, but keep moving. Change doesn’t live on a poster board. It lives in what we build when the streets are quiet. #NoKings #MarchLessMoveMore #EverydayActivism #QuietChange #TippingPoint #MakeMeaning #DemocracyAlive #YouthMovement #DoTheWork #ZenOfAction https://alanohashi.com/2025/10/21/understanding-the-tipping-point-of-social-movements/TippingPoint #MakeMeaning #DemocracyAlive #YouthMovement #DoTheWork #ZenOfAction

Do You Have Questions? Start a Conversation with Alan Bot!

← Back

Thank you for your response. ✨