'yes we can't' the problem with democratic messaging

On July 14, 2016, Former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton held a rally in front of a roaring crowd, rousing supporters of the Democratic candidate during her campaign against Republican business mogul Donald Trump. “We’re going to have a lot of jobs,” Clinton said to a group of younger voters. “Jobs from building infrastructure to coding. Creating new apps. I don’t know who created the app ‘Pokémon GO,’” she continued, attempting to connect to her audience. “But I’m trying to figure out how we get them to Pokémon GO to the polls.” If only the then-69-year-old would’ve realized the absolute hilarity of her comment, no pun intended. 
To her credit, she wasn’t the worst one.
In the 2004 Democratic Primary, candidate Howard Dean, Governor of Vermont, gathered his supporters at Val-Air Ballroom in West Des Moines, Iowa, following a rough third–place finish in the state’s primary, trailing U.S. Senators John Kerry of Massachusetts and John Edwards of North Carolina. Designed to reassure supporters and bolster support among Democrats, the rally seemed to be serving its intended purpose.
That was until he ended the speech.
“Not only are we going to New Hampshire, Tom Harkin,” Dean said, referencing the junior senator from Iowa who had recently endorsed him. “We’re going to South Carolina and Oklahoma and Arizona and North Dakota and New Mexico, and we’re going to California and Texas and New York. And we’re going to South Dakota and Oregon and Washington and Michigan, and then we’re going to Washington, D.C., to take back the White House!” Now, on its own, this would’ve been fine. It was, however, the obnoxiously high-pitched screech that he emitted after, resembling the word “Yeah!”
Within four days, it was broadcast over 633 times on a multiplicity of television networks. And, in the age of the early internet, this was ruinous. Parodies, commentary, and “prehistoric” memes began to proliferate around digital circles, spelling a P.R. disaster for the candidate.
About a week later, Dean suspended his campaign due to the controversy surrounding not only the scream (colloquially known as “I Have a Scream” due to its performance on Martin Luther King Jr. Day), but the ridicule that followed. Dean was decried as “unelectable,” “unpresidential,” and lacking the proper decorum for the nation’s top office.
These, if you haven’t guessed, are extreme examples. But they reveal a genuine issue: “why are the Democrats so unelectable?”
Gaffes alone, obviously, don’t tell the full story. If Democratic candidates were only defeated by awkward phrasing or high-pitched screams, we’d have no Democratic candidates left. And while New York Representative Alexandria Ocasio Cortez can play Among Us, Former Vice President Kamala Harris can admonish us for saying “Merry Christmas,” and President Bill Clinton can play the saxophone like no-one’s business, there comes a certain point where the American people expect a certain level of seriousness from their politicians.
And the Democrats, with their counter-culture narrative and general rebellious streak, oftentimes fail to deliver.
This is not to say that the Republicans don’t have their fair share of swings and misses too (or in President George W. Bush’s case, a drive), but something that the American left fundamentally struggles with is an issue of muddled messaging.
Let’s look at a few examples. In 2004, Senator John Kerry (the same one loosely associated with the “Dean Scream” nonsense we covered earlier) emerged as the victor of the Democratic Presidential Nomination, and quickly became a popular candidate. He was charismatic, a war hero, and a statesman through and through. However, his lack of an ability to take a definitive stance on certain matters seriously hurt his campaign.
Kerry, like Clinton and Dean, was also “memed” to death over this. The popular internet political satire known as JibJab took shots at him for, as the caricatured President Bush put it, “having more flip-flops than a house of pancakes.” But for Kerry, this wasn’t just a joke that he could gloss over. It was a serious issue—one that greatly haunted his campaign.
This culminated in an appearance at Hantington University in West Virginia, where he famously said:
“I actually did vote for the $87 billion before I voted against it.”
He was referring to an Iraq War funding bill —an earlier version which he had supported, but the final one he didn’t. By the time he finished explaining the nuance, however, the damage was done. To most Americans, it sounded like a man trying to have it both ways. Within days, the Bush campaign seized on it, branding him as indecisive and elitist.
A single sentence became the defining image of his candidacy: a politician too careful to stand for anything at all. And yet, after an embarrassing electoral defeat to President Bush (286 to 251), the Democrats found their Lionheart in a young Senator from Illinois.
Enter Barack Obama.
Senator Obama’s rise was not simply a triumph of timing. It wasn’t just a classical outwit or an archetypal victory. It was the victory of charisma, persuasiveness, and a masterclass in message discipline. While others in his party tripped over how to relate to voters, Obama was authentically himself. After courting the near unanimity of his party (Hillary Clinton had her gripes), he delivered a clarity that far exceeded Dean’s scream or Kerry’s explanation.
“Yes We Can” wasn’t just catchy. It was resonant. Hopeful. And it encompassed what the Democratic Party is supposed to represent.
Change.
That’s not to say he didn’t face his share of cynicism or mockery. Every politician does. But unlike Dean’s scream or Kerry’s flip-flops, Obama’s brand of communication was rooted in emotional precision, deep humanity, and humble optimism. Every speech was built to connect. When he said, “In no other country on Earth is my story even possible,” it didn’t sound like political theater or a brag—it sounded like faith in America itself.
“Yes We Can,” however, is now just a burning memory.
President Joe Biden’s message, cited as a noble return to decency, often struggled to cut through an increasingly digitized world.
And that’s putting it politely.
Appearing outside the White House with Supreme Court Justice Ketanji Brown-Jackson and Vice President Kamala Harris, Biden aptly described America in one word: “ASUFUTIMAEHAEHFU. Excuse me.”
Somewhere after that, I’m sure an Obama sign rolled in its trash can.
President Biden’s very apparent cognitive decline was never quite assuaged by his staffers. And when he had a particularly good remark, it usually came off as rehearsed, cliché, or something that you’d read off of a notecard during a school presentation. Hardly presidential. It isn’t all his fault; aging, obviously, is a very unfortunate fact of life. And, unlike previous candidates—or the next one—there is little he could do.
Vice President Kamala Harris, however, in her historic 107-day presidential race, had full agency over her remarks. And even before that, she wasn’t exactly a sage rhetorician. Her infamous “Do not come” remarks to migrants at the U.S.-Mexico border in 2021 confused both progressives and moderates, leaving many unsure what the administration’s stance even was. Harris seemed to channel the spirit of Kerry in her policy shifts.
The party today often feels like a brand with no slogan—or worse yet, one that continues to try to appeal to modernity (looking at you, Cracker Barrel). The Democrats constantly try to convince everyone, not realizing that in the process, they’ve convinced no one.
If the Obama era was a symphony of justice and progression, the Biden-Harris years have felt  like a series of jazz improvisations—interesting, unpredictable, and sometimes pleasant to the ear, but almost always off-key.
So what can the left do about it?
First, they must find their voice again. Not the voices of aides whispering into their ears, even though help can be good. Not the voices of algorithms, even when they present important data. The Democrats are nothing without the strength of their conviction. And once they sound like they’re reading from a DNC-approved teleprompter, they lose the faith of the American public.
Second, simplify. If a message takes longer than ten seconds to explain—especially nowadays—it isn’t worth pursuing. The power of “Hope,” “Change,” or even “Make America Great Again,” (that last one really worked), is that they can fit on a t-shirt, bumper sticker, or a billboard.
And finally for God’s sake, stop trying to be cool. Coming from a teenager, albeit a very politically involved one, there’s nothing less cool than doomscrolling at 3 a.m. and watching a political party desperately trying to stay relevant via memes, slang, or pop culture. The key isn’t to mimic culture. It’s to build, defend, and lead it.
Until they rediscover that sense of moral clarity and cultural confidence, Democrats will continue to “Pokémon GO” in circles for the foreseeable future.
On July 14, 2016, Former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton held a rally in front of a roaring crowd, rousing supporters of the Democratic candidate during her campaign against Republican business mogul Donald Trump. “We’re going to have a lot of jobs,” Clinton said to a group of younger voters. “Jobs from building infrastructure to coding. Creating new apps. I don’t know who created the app ‘Pokémon GO,’” she continued, attempting to connect to her audience. “But I’m trying to figure out how we get them to Pokémon GO to the polls.” If only the then-69-year-old would’ve realized the absolute hilarity of her comment, no pun intended. 
To her credit, she wasn’t the worst one.
In the 2004 Democratic Primary, candidate Howard Dean, Governor of Vermont, gathered his supporters at Val-Air Ballroom in West Des Moines, Iowa, following a rough third–place finish in the state’s primary, trailing U.S. Senators John Kerry of Massachusetts and John Edwards of North Carolina. Designed to reassure supporters and bolster support among Democrats, the rally seemed to be serving its intended purpose.
That was until he ended the speech.
“Not only are we going to New Hampshire, Tom Harkin,” Dean said, referencing the junior senator from Iowa who had recently endorsed him. “We’re going to South Carolina and Oklahoma and Arizona and North Dakota and New Mexico, and we’re going to California and Texas and New York. And we’re going to South Dakota and Oregon and Washington and Michigan, and then we’re going to Washington, D.C., to take back the White House!” Now, on its own, this would’ve been fine. It was, however, the obnoxiously high-pitched screech that he emitted after, resembling the word “Yeah!”
Within four days, it was broadcast over 633 times on a multiplicity of television networks. And, in the age of the early internet, this was ruinous. Parodies, commentary, and “prehistoric” memes began to proliferate around digital circles, spelling a P.R. disaster for the candidate.
About a week later, Dean suspended his campaign due to the controversy surrounding not only the scream (colloquially known as “I Have a Scream” due to its performance on Martin Luther King Jr. Day), but the ridicule that followed. Dean was decried as “unelectable,” “unpresidential,” and lacking the proper decorum for the nation’s top office.
These, if you haven’t guessed, are extreme examples. But they reveal a genuine issue: “why are the Democrats so unelectable?”
Gaffes alone, obviously, don’t tell the full story. If Democratic candidates were only defeated by awkward phrasing or high-pitched screams, we’d have no Democratic candidates left. And while New York Representative Alexandria Ocasio Cortez can play Among Us, Former Vice President Kamala Harris can admonish us for saying “Merry Christmas,” and President Bill Clinton can play the saxophone like no-one’s business, there comes a certain point where the American people expect a certain level of seriousness from their politicians.
And the Democrats, with their counter-culture narrative and general rebellious streak, oftentimes fail to deliver.
This is not to say that the Republicans don’t have their fair share of swings and misses too (or in President George W. Bush’s case, a drive), but something that the American left fundamentally struggles with is an issue of muddled messaging.
Let’s look at a few examples. In 2004, Senator John Kerry (the same one loosely associated with the “Dean Scream” nonsense we covered earlier) emerged as the victor of the Democratic Presidential Nomination, and quickly became a popular candidate. He was charismatic, a war hero, and a statesman through and through. However, his lack of an ability to take a definitive stance on certain matters seriously hurt his campaign.
Kerry, like Clinton and Dean, was also “memed” to death over this. The popular internet political satire known as JibJab took shots at him for, as the caricatured President Bush put it, “having more flip-flops than a house of pancakes.” But for Kerry, this wasn’t just a joke that he could gloss over. It was a serious issue—one that greatly haunted his campaign.
This culminated in an appearance at Hantington University in West Virginia, where he famously said:
“I actually did vote for the $87 billion before I voted against it.”
He was referring to an Iraq War funding bill —an earlier version which he had supported, but the final one he didn’t. By the time he finished explaining the nuance, however, the damage was done. To most Americans, it sounded like a man trying to have it both ways. Within days, the Bush campaign seized on it, branding him as indecisive and elitist.
A single sentence became the defining image of his candidacy: a politician too careful to stand for anything at all. And yet, after an embarrassing electoral defeat to President Bush (286 to 251), the Democrats found their Lionheart in a young Senator from Illinois.
Enter Barack Obama.
Senator Obama’s rise was not simply a triumph of timing. It wasn’t just a classical outwit or an archetypal victory. It was the victory of charisma, persuasiveness, and a masterclass in message discipline. While others in his party tripped over how to relate to voters, Obama was authentically himself. After courting the near unanimity of his party (Hillary Clinton had her gripes), he delivered a clarity that far exceeded Dean’s scream or Kerry’s explanation.
“Yes We Can” wasn’t just catchy. It was resonant. Hopeful. And it encompassed what the Democratic Party is supposed to represent.
Change.
That’s not to say he didn’t face his share of cynicism or mockery. Every politician does. But unlike Dean’s scream or Kerry’s flip-flops, Obama’s brand of communication was rooted in emotional precision, deep humanity, and humble optimism. Every speech was built to connect. When he said, “In no other country on Earth is my story even possible,” it didn’t sound like political theater or a brag—it sounded like faith in America itself.
“Yes We Can,” however, is now just a burning memory.
President Joe Biden’s message, cited as a noble return to decency, often struggled to cut through an increasingly digitized world.
And that’s putting it politely.
Appearing outside the White House with Supreme Court Justice Ketanji Brown-Jackson and Vice President Kamala Harris, Biden aptly described America in one word: “ASUFUTIMAEHAEHFU. Excuse me.”
Somewhere after that, I’m sure an Obama sign rolled in its trash can.
President Biden’s very apparent cognitive decline was never quite assuaged by his staffers. And when he had a particularly good remark, it usually came off as rehearsed, cliché, or something that you’d read off of a notecard during a school presentation. Hardly presidential. It isn’t all his fault; aging, obviously, is a very unfortunate fact of life. And, unlike previous candidates—or the next one—there is little he could do.
Vice President Kamala Harris, however, in her historic 107-day presidential race, had full agency over her remarks. And even before that, she wasn’t exactly a sage rhetorician. Her infamous “Do not come” remarks to migrants at the U.S.-Mexico border in 2021 confused both progressives and moderates, leaving many unsure what the administration’s stance even was. Harris seemed to channel the spirit of Kerry in her policy shifts.
The party today often feels like a brand with no slogan—or worse yet, one that continues to try to appeal to modernity (looking at you, Cracker Barrel). The Democrats constantly try to convince everyone, not realizing that in the process, they’ve convinced no one.
If the Obama era was a symphony of justice and progression, the Biden-Harris years have felt  like a series of jazz improvisations—interesting, unpredictable, and sometimes pleasant to the ear, but almost always off-key.
So what can the left do about it?
First, they must find their voice again. Not the voices of aides whispering into their ears, even though help can be good. Not the voices of algorithms, even when they present important data. The Democrats are nothing without the strength of their conviction. And once they sound like they’re reading from a DNC-approved teleprompter, they lose the faith of the American public.
Second, simplify. If a message takes longer than ten seconds to explain—especially nowadays—it isn’t worth pursuing. The power of “Hope,” “Change,” or even “Make America Great Again,” (that last one really worked), is that they can fit on a t-shirt, bumper sticker, or a billboard.
And finally for God’s sake, stop trying to be cool. Coming from a teenager, albeit a very politically involved one, there’s nothing less cool than doomscrolling at 3 a.m. and watching a political party desperately trying to stay relevant via memes, slang, or pop culture. The key isn’t to mimic culture. It’s to build, defend, and lead it.
Until they rediscover that sense of moral clarity and cultural confidence, Democrats will continue to “Pokémon GO” in circles for the foreseeable future.