I’m a Progressive. I No Longer Know What the Word Means.

Democrats have to appeal to their constituents where those constituents actually live. That’s not a betrayal of progressive values. That’s just what politics is.

Kristoffer Ealy is a political scientist, political analyst, and professor in Southern California. He teaches American Government and political behavior, with a focus on political psychology, voting behavior, and political socialization. Subscribe to his Substack, The Thinking Class with Professor Ealy.

At some point, somebody needs to check the warranty on the word progressive, because this thing is no longer performing as advertised. I have called myself one for years. I believe in expanding rights, strengthening the social safety net, protecting workers, taxing the rich, defending democracy, and generally dragging this country toward something less cruel.

I also believe in compromise, coalition-building, winning elections, and occasionally admitting that the person with the correct position on Medicare for All may still be a lunatic you should not send to the United States Senate. Apparently that last part is where the trouble starts. In 2026, being progressive and realistic at the same time can feel like showing up to church with questions about the sermon: technically allowed, but everybody keeps staring at you like you brought a flask.

And look, by the end of the Graham Platner campaign, I had basically thrown my hands in the air. Democrats from the more corporate Pod Save America side of the party all the way over to the left-wing Majority Report crowd were caping for this man despite enough red flags to supply every lobster boat in Maine. Then Democratic voters in the state looked at the tattoo, the racist Reddit posts, the exes, the allegations, the whole flaming pile of warning signs, and nominated him anyway.

At that point I said, fine. If this is the Democrat Maine wants, I guess I am going to have to get on board, because the alternative was Susan Collins — a woman who has spent thirty years responding to Republican extremism with a furrowed brow, a trembling voice, and a strongly worded letter she ultimately votes against. But reluctantly supporting the nominee against Collins was not the same thing as joining the Platner Witness Protection Program. I never had to pretend the Nazi tattoo was a misunderstanding, the racist stereotypes were harmless, or the allegations were merely inconvenient opposition research. I could accept the coalition’s decision without surrendering my ability to recognize what was directly in front of me. A remarkable number of people wearing the same progressive label treated that surrender as part of the job.

I bring this up not to congratulate myself for clearing a moral bar that had already fallen through the floor and was resting somewhere near the earth’s core. The gap between how I read the Platner campaign and how some of my fellow progressives read it is the entire problem. Two people can use the same political label, put the same rose emoji in their social-media bios, and still reach completely opposite conclusions about whether a man with a Nazi tattoo, racist posts, multiple ex-partners describing aggressive behavior, and a credible rape allegation should be handed a United States Senate seat. If progressive described a coherent set of commitments rather than a membership lanyard, that kind of disagreement should at least be difficult. Instead, it became routine.

And I want to be careful here, because I believe in forgiveness and redemption. Anybody can change. Anybody can become better than the worst thing they have ever done. But forgiveness is not the same thing as pretending every door must reopen. A person convicted of real-estate fraud may deserve forgiveness, therapy, a second chance, and a warm welcome at the family cookout. He still probably should not be put in charge of the escrow account. Somebody convicted of robbing a bank can rebuild his life without being handed the keys to the vault on his first day back. A person convicted of violent or sexual offenses may genuinely transform, but that does not mean placing that person in a job around children is an inspiring story about redemption. Sometimes the proof that society has learned something is that it stops confusing mercy with amnesia.