Last night, Blue Dog Johnny Garcia defeated antisemitic sex therapist Maureen Galindo in the Democratic primary runoff for Texas’ 35th Congressional District.

Garcia has deep roots in South Texas, nearly two decades of law enforcement experience, and the kind of profile built to compete in a Trump +10 district. Democratic voters chose a candidate grounded in service, pragmatism, and credibility over extremism and fringe politics.

Blue Dogs stood with Garcia from the very beginning. In January, Blue Dog PAC became the first and only national organization to endorse Garcia ahead of the March primary. BDA PAC, Blue Dog Action’s affiliated political action committee, was the only outside group to invest in the primary, spending $300,000 to help Garcia advance to the runoff and keep TX-35 competitive for Democrats.

That support continued in the runoff. BDA PAC invested an additional $950,000 in the May 26 election, bringing total spending in TX-35 to $1.25 million, and helping Garcia advance to the general election.

This was never an easy race. Garcia was a first-time candidate running in a district that did not formally exist until late last year. The Supreme Court didn’t finalize the Texas congressional maps until December, compressing the campaign calendar directly into the holiday season. Early voting for the March primary began just days after Presidents’ Day weekend. And then a deluge of shady Republican Super PAC spending arrived in the race’s final weeks, aiming to boost Galindo and keep this seat out of reach.

Garcia ran anyway. He won. And national analysts are taking this race seriously. Today, Sabato’s Crystal Ball shifted TX-35 from Likely Republican to Lean Republican.

Here are three takeaways from the TX-35 primary:

1. South Texas Democrats Made the Strategic Choice

In competitive South Texas districts, voters are looking for candidates who can actually win general elections, not chase online attention or ideological purity tests.

With recent political coverage framing the current Democratic base as being a Tea Party-style resistance movement that’s activist-minded and pulling left, that matters. South Texas Democrats didn’t get that memo. They voted like people who want to win one of the most competitive districts in the country.

Democratic primary voters in TX-35 had a stark choice. On one side was a Blue Dog candidate with nearly two decades in law enforcement, deep roots on San Antonio’s West Side, and a message built for working-class South Texas. On the other was a candidate who raised less than $10,000 and spent her time posting conspiracy theory videos about San Antonio and Israel.

Voters made the strategic choice. They looked at November and voted accordingly.

The same dynamic played out in nearby TX-15 earlier this year, where Democratic voters backed Blue Dog Bobby Pulido over Ada Cuellar, who was out of step with working-class South Texas voters. Across the region, Democratic voters in competitive districts are showing they understand what it takes to win in places President Trump carried comfortably.

2. Republicans May Have Overplayed Their Hand in the Texas Gerrymander

Last summer, when Republicans kicked off their unprecedented mid-cycle redistricting efforts across the country, Rep. Jared Golden warned them what would happen:

“I won in a seat that the president has won by 7-10 points. … You want to draw some of your incumbents out of R+12, R+15 seats into R+6? We’ll find some good candidates who can win there.”

That warning is starting to prove out in South Texas, where there are signs that Republicans may have overplayed their hand in the Texas gerrymander. Republicans created TX-35 to be a safe Republican seat. But it created an opening, giving a candidate like Johnny Garcia the runway to emerge. For anyone wondering whether TX-35 is truly in play this November: Republicans already answered that question with their own checkbook, spending over $1 million to try to meddle in the TX-35 primary (more on that below).

And Republicans may have miscalculated more than they realize. The district’s voting-age population is 52 percent Hispanic. Trump carried the district by 10 points in 2024, but by only 2 points in 2020. In 2018, Beto O’Rourke and Ted Cruz fought the same territory to a near-draw. Brandon Steinhauser, a longtime Texas Republican strategist and former top aide to Sen. John Cornyn, told NBC News that Republicans drew this map making “big assumptions that President Trump’s support among Hispanics in Texas would translate in the future” to the rest of the party. Since 2024, he noted, Trump has “probably lost a bit of that support both nationwide and in Texas,” making the map, in his words, “a little aggressive or overconfident.”

The Texas gerrymander was created to pick up five Republican districts in Texas. Blue Dogs are the Democratic nominees in four districts in South Texas, and if they are successful, Democrats will hold the gerrymander to a pickup of only one seat.

3. Secretive Republican Spending in Democratic Primaries is Not Going Away

Lead Left PAC, a Republican-backed effort to manipulate Democratic primaries, and the Congressional Leadership Fund (CLF), the main House Republican super PAC, have now spent millions this cycle intervening in multiple Blue Dog primaries across the country, targeting the Democratic candidates most likely to beat them in the fall. Republicans don’t spend that kind of money unless they’re worried.

This isn’t the first time one party has tried to meddle in the other’s primary. But what’s different now is the infrastructure. This is a House Republican super PAC operation, laundered through a deceptively named group, Lead Left PAC, designed to mislead Democratic voters into thinking they were getting a progressive signal. Between the name, the branding, and the untraceable funding sources, this operation was built to deceive. That’s a meaningful escalation from the old-fashioned kind of political mischief, and Democrats need to be clear-eyed about it going into the rest of the 2026 Democratic primaries.

In TX-35, Republicans clearly understood the threat Johnny Garcia poses. In the final weeks of the runoff, they used this new secretive infrastructure to spend over $1 million trying to boost Galindo and block Garcia’s path to the nomination. The Republican spending kept the race competitive until the very end.

What Comes Next

Johnny Garcia heads into the general election as the Democratic nominee in one of the most competitive districts in the country. The DCCC has already added Garcia to its Red to Blue program. He brings exactly the biography, message, and local credibility Democrats need to compete in working-class, Trump-won districts.

South Texas stood firm. Now it’s time to finish the job, and Blue Dog Action will be there for every step of the fight ahead.

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Two words get invoked so often in American politics that they have nearly lost their meaning: bipartisan and pragmatic. You’ll find them in press releases, cable hits, and campaign mailers. Politicians reach for them because they reflect something real, and what most Americans actually want from their government. But for the most part, it’s not what they’re getting.

Genuine bipartisanship and pragmatism require discipline. In today’s politics, that means putting constituents above party, and dropping the performance to tell the truth and focus on the hard work of legislating to actually change something, for someone or some place.

The Blue Dog Coalition was founded on that discipline. In an era when the dominant logic of American politics rewards outrage and punishes compromise, Blue Dogs have shown, often against considerable pressure from their own party, that the measure of a legislator is not the purity of their positions, but the results of what they can get done for the people they represent.

And recently, three Blue Dog members have shown what that looks like in practice. Rep. Adam Gray passed three bipartisan bills related to healthcare access, energy costs, and wildfire emissions through the House. Rep. Marie Gluesenkamp Perez passed her bipartisan bill to cut red tape for childcare providers through the House. And Rep. Jared Golden secured the Trump White House’s formal support on a bill to protect Maine’s lobster industry.

Common Ground For The Central Valley

Rep. Adam Gray represents California’s 13th District, the heart of the California Central Valley, an agricultural powerhouse that produces 25 percent of the nation’s food and 40 percent of the nation’s fruits, nuts, and table foods. Recently, he passed three bipartisan bills on the House floor. Each bill was introduced with a Republican colleague. Each bill passed with support from both parties. And each bill addresses a real issue for working-class families.

The first bill reauthorizes funding for a telehealth grant program through 2030, helping to ensure that working families in communities like the Central Valley can access medical care remotely. The second protects states from being penalized under environmental rules for wildfire smoke and emissions they cannot control, while preserving broader environmental standards. The third streamlines geothermal energy development to lower energy costs.

In announcing these accomplishments, Rep. Gray laid out his values plainly:

“I came to Congress to get things done for the Central Valley. This shows that despite partisan gridlock and politics as usual in Washington, it is possible to find common ground on issues and deliver meaningful legislation that will expand access to telehealth in rural communities, address wildfire-related air quality challenges, and lower energy costs. I will work with anyone to deliver results and find solutions to the issues facing the Valley.”

Those are Blue Dog values. Rep. Gray didn’t say he’ll work with anyone who agrees with him. Just that he’ll work with anyone on behalf of his constituents in the Central Valley. Rep. Gray demonstrated that bipartisanship and pragmatism are not talking points. They are, in a Republican-controlled Congress, the only viable path to legislating. The alternative is a governing coalition that passes nothing, serves no one, and mistakes moral clarity for political relevance.

Sensible Food Prep Guidelines for Daycares

Rep. Marie Gluesenkamp Perez, who represents Washington’s 3rd Congressional District, is one of the most independent voices in the House. Before coming to Congress, Rep. Gluesenkamp Perez co-owned an auto repair and machine shop with her husband. She campaigns and governs from a place of practical knowledge about what working people want. Her bipartisan bill, the Cutting Red Tape on Child Care Providers Act, passed the House earlier this month, and it is almost comically illustrative of what regulatory overreach can look like when it escapes accountability.

The problem is simple. In states across the country, a daycare worker can open a bag of chips for a toddler with no regulatory consequence, but peeling a banana, a healthy snack, can trigger food preparation rules that require additional sink installations. The regulatory structure, designed to protect children’s health, had evolved to treat a banana as a greater liability than processed junk food.

Rep. Gluesenkamp Perez’s bill creates a separate category for foods that pose a low risk for foodborne illness, like peeled fruits and vegetables, so childcare providers are not subject to overburdensome regulation to serve them. The legislation was passed with Republican support. In a video announcing the win, Rep. Gluesenkamp Perez said:

“When we have policies that wittingly or unwittingly make Cheetos more accessible to a toddler than fresh fruit, we have a crisis brewing.”

Her framing is important. This is a story about what happens when regulatory systems accumulate without anyone asking whether each layer is still doing what it was meant to do. The banana rule wasn’t designed to harm children. It just did, in practice, by discouraging the people responsible for those children from making the sensible choice. Rep. Gluesenkamp Perez saw the absurdity, worked across the aisle, and passed her bill on the House floor, taking a significant step towards fixing the problem.

That, too, is what pragmatism looks like. Rep. Gluesenkamp Perez is not anti-regulation, but is insistent that standards actually achieve their stated purpose.

No Party On The Water

If you’ve spent any time listening to Rep. Jared Golden, you’ve heard him talk about the lobster industry. He represents Maine’s 2nd District, a vast stretch of forests, mill towns, and coastline where the lobster industry is an economic lifeline. Recently, he secured the Trump White House’s formal support for his legislation to extend a moratorium on new federal regulations affecting lobstermen through 2035.

Rep. Golden had originally won a version of this moratorium in 2022, working with Maine’s bipartisan congressional delegation under the Biden administration. That freeze was set to expire in 2028. The new bill would extend it to 2035.

The Trump administration’s formal support for the bill is, on its face, a striking piece of political alignment. A Democrat from Maine, working with a Republican White House, to protect a working-class industry from regulations its practitioners say are based on flawed modeling rather than conditions on the water. But it shouldn’t be striking. It’s the result of Rep. Golden’s longstanding commitment to putting his constituents above his party. Rep. Golden has been willing to work with this administration on issues where he agrees with their direction. He has also been willing to oppose it. The through-line is not party loyalty but constituent loyalty and loyalty to place. In announcing the win, Rep. Golden plainly stated:

“The need to protect Maine’s iconic lobster industry knows no party. I’m grateful for the President’s support for Maine’s lobstermen and hopeful that my colleagues in the House will join me in quickly passing this bill into law.”

His message deserves to be taken seriously. It is an acknowledgment that when people’s livelihoods are at play, party isn’t. A legislator who can hold that truth, who can cross lines of party identification to serve the people who sent them, is doing something harder and more important than the hollow resistance that many are pursuing instead.

Bipartisan, Pragmatic Governing Is The Only Way

What connects these three stories is not just that Democrats worked with Republicans, or that they passed or received support for commonsense legislation. What connects them is something more structural. Each of these Blue Dogs looked at a specific community facing a specific problem, identified the path most likely to produce relief, and took it, regardless of whether it mapped neatly onto a partisan script.

That is the Blue Dog argument. It is not always a popular argument. In a political environment that rewards purity and punishes deviation, the case for bipartisan, pragmatic governing can be difficult. When Rep. Gluesenkamp Perez introduced her banana bill, people came out against her, launching bad-faith attacks and questioning her motives. In reality, she’s working to fix a rule that was hurting small business owners and making children’s diets worse.

The instinct to read bad faith into every bipartisan bill, to treat every act of governing as an ideological concession, is strong. It has a constituency, and it generates clicks in online echo chambers. It also produces nothing for the daycare worker who can’t afford a second sink.

Telehealth in the Central Valley. A banana in a Washington daycare. A lobster boat still on the water in coastal Maine. These aren’t the kinds of policy priorities that trend. They don’t have an easy villain, they don’t map onto a larger culture war narrative, and they won’t generate the kind of outrage that keeps people glued to their feeds. They’re just things that Blue Dogs are pushing to make life better for working people.

That’s what governing actually looks like.

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A father in a stolen communist officer’s uniform. A painted toy gun tucked into a holster.
Forty refugees hiding below deck on a fishing boat trying to escape Vietnam after the fall of Saigon.

That is where Thien Ho’s story begins.

“If you find a bunch of refugees,” Ho recalls his father telling an armed guard at the final checkpoint, “you can kill all of us, starting with me.”

The gun was fake. The danger was not.

This week on Blue Dog Radio, Sacramento County District Attorney and CA-06 congressional candidate Thien Ho tells the story of fleeing Vietnam as a child, drifting through the South China Sea for nearly two weeks without food or water, and eventually arriving in California as a refugee.

Decades later, Ho would become Sacramento County District Attorney and help lead the prosecution of one of the most infamous serial killers in American history: the Golden State Killer.

And somehow, despite how cinematic that opening sounds, the interview becomes less about mythology and rooted in a real responsibility to serve.

Ho talks often about “earning it.” Earning the sacrifice his parents made. Earning the second chance America gave his family.

“When you get a second chance at life,” he says, “you wanna earn it.”

That phrase hangs over his entire life.

The son of refugees who arrived to America unable to speak English, Ho describes learning the language through Bugs Bunny cartoons while his mother worked graveyard shifts at a cannery before returning home “smelling like the peaches that she’d canned all night.”

Again and again, the interview returns to textured memories and experience.

The cardboard box his infant brother hid inside while escaping Vietnam. The feeling of being so hungry at sea that “you’re no longer hungry.”

They are memories that still seem physically present to him. And they explain a great deal about the kind of leader Ho appears to be trying to become: Firm on public safety. Obsessed with due process. Explicitly supportive of border security while also arguing for humane immigration reform and legal pathways for Dreamers.

“When it comes to immigration,” Ho says, “it’s not about going right or left, it’s about moving forward.”

It is increasingly rare to hear an American politician frame governance as problem solving instead of tribal warfare. Ho repeatedly circles back to balance.

At one point, discussing criminal justice, he references Zen Buddhism and “the middle path.”

“I believe in accountability,” he says. “But at the same time, we need rehabilitation and an opportunity at redemption.”

Ho describes meeting Phyllis, the first known victim of the Golden State Killer.

“Hi, I’m Phyllis. I’m victim number one,” she told him in court.

By the time the case finally ended, Phyllis was dying of cancer.

“She was able to obtain a measure of justice,” Ho says.

Justice, in Ho’s telling, is personal. Not performative. Not theoretical. And maybe that explains why this interview feels different than the average congressional candidate conversation.The energy is less ideological than existential. A man trying to live up to what his parents survived for.

Near the end of our conversation, Ho recalls his father standing alone on the deck of that refugee boat staring into complete darkness after the family had run out of food, gas, and water.

“It’s always darkest before the dawn,” he says.

Within thirty minutes of his father praying for help, a merchant ship appeared and rescued the family.

It is an extraordinary story. But the more interesting thing may be that Ho still talks about it like somebody trying to deserve it.

Our full conversation with Thien Ho drops later this week.

We talk about immigration, public safety, corruption, labor, the Golden State Killer prosecution, fishing in the Sierras, and what the “promise of America” actually means when your family arrives here with nothing.

And maybe most importantly, what kind of politics emerges from somebody who still believes in second chances.

The New York Times published two pieces this week that every Democrat paying attention to the 2026 midterms should read.

One article by Shane Goldmacher, “Mysterious Meddling in Democratic Primaries Has G.O.P. Fingerprints,” details the strategic effort by a Republican-backed group, the misleadingly-named Lead Left PAC, and Congressional Leadership Fund (CLF), the official super PAC of House Republicans, to meddle in Democratic primaries with Blue Dog candidates to elevate progressive candidates who will be easier for Republicans to defeat in the general election.

Another opinion piece from Michelle Goldberg, “Democrats Can’t Let This Antisemitic Sex Therapist Win Her Runoff,” highlights Lead Left PAC’s role in the TX-35 runoff and explains exactly why Republicans want Maureen Galindo, not Blue Dog Johnny Garcia, to win the primary.

Together, Lead Left, the new Republican-backed super PAC with a Staples store listed as its address, and CLF have spent over $2 million in TX-35, PA-07, and CA-22 to try to knock out Blue Dog candidates most likely to beat Republicans in the fall.

Below are some of the key passages from the articles, quoted directly:

From “Mysterious Meddling in Democratic Primaries Has G.O.P. Fingerprints”

Which candidates they are targeting, and what the candidates have in common:

In three of the four races, the spending seeks to defeat candidates who are part of the Democratic Party’s “red to blue” program, a special designation for top recruits in key races that could determine control of the House. Those three candidates are also backed by the Blue Dogs, a traditional centrist group of House Democrats.

Blue Dog PAC Chair Rep. Adam Gray on what Republicans are actually doing:

“They’re going into Democratic primaries and literally trying to boost the most extreme candidates and oppose the Blue Dog-endorsed candidates that, if they win, are going to beat the Republicans in the general.”

On Lead Left PAC’s Republican fingerprints:

The bulk of new spending is from a new group called Lead Left PAC, which has a scant online presence and was created so recently that it has not had to disclose any donors yet. The PAC was registered to a treasurer who has not previously registered a political committee, with an address that matched that of a Staples office supply store in Tallahassee, Fla. The spending so far has flowed through limited liability corporations with little disclosure.

But Republican fingerprints are detectable. The ads the group has run in Nebraska closely mirror the messaging in ads previously paid for by a nonprofit group that is linked to House Republican leadership, called the American Action Network. And the metadata of the Lead Left PAC’s website includes links to WinRed, a prominent Republican donation-processing firm, as Punchbowl News previously reported. The metadata reference was later removed.

On PA-07, going after Blue Dog Bob Brooks in a district Republicans just flipped:

In Pennsylvania, the Lead Left PAC has reserved more than $600,000 in ad time in the Seventh District, according to AdImpact, the ad tracking service. Republicans flipped the key battleground district in 2024.

One TV ad attacks Bob Brooks, who has led a firefighters union and was named to the “red to blue” program.

On CA-22, the Congressional Leadership Fund (CLF) openly boosts a more progressive Democrat against Blue Dog Dr. Jasmeet Bains:

The Congressional Leadership Fund, the official super PAC of House Republicans, reported its first spending of 2026, which included a small sum boosting a more progressive Democrat, Randy Villegas. Mr. Villegas is running in a California race that includes Jasmeet Bains, a moderate Democratic assemblywoman. Both are vying to challenge Representative David Valadao, the Republican incumbent, this fall. The D.C.C.C. has backed Ms. Bains.

From “Democrats Can’t Let This Antisemitic Sex Therapist Win Her Runoff”

On the last minute, dark money dropped to boost antisemitic sex therapist Maureen Galindo:

In the final weeks of the campaign, Galindo is getting some unexpected help. A shadowy new PAC called Lead Left spent $43,000 on mailers promising that Galindo would dismantle Immigration and Customs Enforcement, create “public health care options for all” and have President Trump arrested and impeached.

On Lead Left’s Republican fingerprints and the CLF’s telling non-denial:

As Punchbowl reported, Lead Left was registered only on April 24, and its address is listed as a Staples in Tallahassee, Fla. While Democrats don’t know who’s running it, Punchbowl found WinRed, a Republican fund-raising platform, in the metadata on the group’s website. When Punchbowl’s Ally Mutnick asked a spokesperson for the Congressional Leadership Fund, a Republican super PAC, if the group was behind Lead Left, she refused to say. Instead, she gloated, “We hate to see these Democrat primaries devolve into the wokelympics, but the office popcorn machine has been going nonstop.”

On why Republicans want Maureen Galindo, not Blue Dog Johnny Garcia, in November:

It’s pretty obvious why Republicans would prefer to run against Galindo. Voters in the redrawn district, which is majority Latino, supported Trump by 10 percentage points in 2024, but many of them have since become disillusioned. With the right candidate, Democrats think they can win it. With Galindo, a white woman who once inveighed against “tokenass puppet sellout Hispanics” while complaining online about a bakery, they probably cannot.

Blue Dog Johnny Garcia on what the Republican meddling actually signals:

“It was jaw-dropping to see how a suspected Republican PAC is meddling in this election,” Garcia told me. “It goes to show how they feel very threatened and are desperate.”

The Bottom Line

These pieces tell a simple story. Republicans are spending money on races they are afraid of losing. Every dollar Lead Left PAC and CLF have spent in a Blue Dog primary is a concession that the Blue Dog running can beat them. To date, they’ve spent over $2 million in Blue Dog primaries.

The Blue Dogs have a slate of candidates with deep local roots in their districts, strong records of public service, and credibility to speak to voters who have been alienated by both parties. They are exactly the candidates Republicans are most afraid to face, and their spending just proved it.

Blue Dog candidates, from California’s Central Valley, to South Texas, to Pennsylvania’s Lehigh Valley, have what it takes to win in the most competitive districts in the country, and this meddling won’t change that.

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The Democratic primary in this new Trump +10 district shouldn’t be close. But it is. And the election is now less than three weeks away. If Democrats blow it in TX-35, the Texas gerrymander of this seat works exactly as designed. If they get it right, they’ve got a real shot at a seat Republicans thought they’d already won. That decision will be made on May 26th.

Blue Dog Johnny Garcia is a sheriff’s deputy and trained SWAT hostage negotiator with twenty years of public service and a profile built for this district. He stepped up to run last fall after the Texas gerrymander took place. His opponent, Maureen Galindo, lost a city council race with 3 percent of the vote ten months ago. She’s spent her campaign pushing far-left activist talking points while promoting conspiracy theories about Jewish people on social media.

This should be an easy call. But with both candidates still largely unknown to voters, anything can happen.

The Battle For The Majority Runs Through South Texas

Republicans hold a slim House majority, and Trump carried 230 of 435 congressional districts nationwide. The only way back is through Trump country. That’s exactly where Blue Dogs operate.

Two of the most consequential offensive opportunities on the map are in TX-15 and TX-35. In TX-15, Blue Dog Bobby Pulido is already through his primary and ready to take on Monica De La Cruz and flip that seat. In TX-35, Democrats still have a decision to make, and it’s a big one.

The Republican Gerrymander That Created This Moment

President Donald Trump ordered Texas Governor Greg Abbott to redistrict his state in the middle of the decade to pick up five additional Republican House seats and help ensure Republicans maintain control of the House of Representatives in the 2026 elections. One of those seats is TX-35.

Republicans drew progressive Rep. Greg Casar out of his old seat and created a new TX-35 from parts of San Antonio and three neighboring counties, turning a deep blue seat into a Trump +10 district. The calculation was simple: make the seat so red that Democrats can’t compete.

And it might work, unless Democrats nominate the right candidate.

That’s why this runoff matters so much. This is a chance to pick a candidate that can rebuke the partisan redistricting, for Democrats to win a seat that was created for Republicans to win, and to get a step closer to a Democratic House majority. In a midterm environment where Trump’s approval ratings are underwater and voters are furious about prices, TX-35 is genuinely in play, but only with the right Democratic candidate.

If Democrats get this pick right, they can limit the Republican gerrymander. If they get it wrong, they hand Republicans an easy win, and the gerrymander pays off exactly as designed.

Johnny Garcia, The Blue Dog Built For This Moment

Born and raised on the West Side of San Antonio, Garcia spent nearly two decades at the Bexar County Sheriff’s Office, rising from jail guard to patrol to SWAT hostage negotiator, and eventually serving as the sheriff’s public information officer. He worked in construction and plumbing before entering law enforcement. He is, as he puts it, an “old-school Democrat,” someone who believes hard work should be rewarded, healthcare should be affordable, and public safety is a universal priority.

This week, the DCCC named Garcia to its Red to Blue program, placing him among the party’s most elite tier of challengers with the best shot of flipping seats. He is one of six Blue Dog-backed candidates named to the program’s first two waves, confirming that the majority runs through exactly these kinds of districts.

This new district is heavily Latino, working-class, and culturally conservative in ways that reward candidates with authentic roots and plain-spoken values. Johnny’s message is like the other Democrats who have actually won in South Texas.

If you want to hear what this actually sounds like, we sat down with Johnny for a podcast episode on Blue Dog Radio in February. We chat about the West Side of San Antonio, about working construction before law enforcement, and about what working families are actually dealing with when the groceries cost more and the gas prices don’t come down.

A Tale Of Two Candidates

Johnny Garcia’s opponent in the TX-35 Democratic primary couldn’t be more different.

Garcia is facing Maureen Galindo in the May 26th Democratic primary runoff. Galindo, a Philadelphia native, lost a San Antonio City Council Race just ten months before the congressional primary. She received less than 3 percent of the vote.

In the March primary, she shocked people by finishing first, winning 29 percent to Garcia’s 27 percent in a crowded four-way field. She spent less than $5,000. But finishing first in a low-turnout, low-recognition, crowded primary is very different from being the candidate who can win a Trump +10 district in November.

And when you look at Galindo’s actual record and rhetoric, the picture that emerges should alarm every serious Democrat who wants to take back the House. When asked by the San Antonio Report if there is anyone in Congress who she’d be similar to, or whose vision is similar, she said:

“U.S. Rep. Delia Ramirez (IL-03) has already put out a bill to abolish DHS and completely dismantle ICE so she’s somebody who I would support when I’m in Congress.”

Abolishing DHS and dismantling ICE are positions that are wildly out of step with a district that is heavily working-class, home to military families, and trending Republican. That type of activist message doesn’t work there. This district trended Republican because mainstream Democrats stopped speaking its language. Galindo would accelerate that trend.

She has also used her growing social media platform to promote a range of conspiracy theories and antisemetic views. In a piece headlined “Israel conspiracies threaten Democratic hopes in Texas runoff race,” Jewish Insider reported that Galindo has used her social media platform to baselessly claim that Israeli soldiers are secretly embedded in U.S. immigration operations, and to repeatedly assert that the Department of Homeland Security is run out of Tel Aviv. That specific claim was publicly dismissed as “fake news” and a “hoax” by X’s own head of product. Galindo doubled down anyway.

In a Washington Free Beacon piece headlined “Democratic Sex Therapist Making Strong Run for Texas House Seat Slams ‘Jews Who Own Hollywood,’ the ‘Synagogue of Satan,’ and Israeli ‘Blood Money’ in Wild Social Media Rants,” the outlet documented a sustained pattern of antisemitic posts across Galindo’s accounts. She called U.S. funding to Israel “blood money” and declared she would “NEVERRRR” accept it. She wrote that “Jewish Church leadership has a dominant economic and political power that is very real, harmful, and should be named and criticized,” an accusation of Jewish control that is one of the oldest antisemitic tropes in existence. She invoked the “synagogue of Satan.” She accused Jews of owning Hollywood. And in one particularly striking post, she responded to a post complaining about alleged sexualized content in a thermometer for babies by pointing out that the company’s CEO was Jewish and posting an image in the comments with the Star of David circled.

Rice University political scientist Mark P. Jones summed up the choice plainly:

“(Johnny Garcia) provides national Democrats with better material to work with in November and none of the liabilities of the more extreme and at times unbalanced Galindo.”

Three Weeks Left, One Consequential Choice

The Texas gerrymander was designed to silence Latino voters and pad the Republican majority. The answer to that is simple: nominate a candidate who can win the seat anyway. That’s Johnny Garcia.

To learn more about Johnny’s campaign, visit: https://www.votejohnnygarcia.com/.

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This week, the Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee (DCCC) announced its second wave of candidates for the 2026 Red to Blue Program, and four of the newly announced candidates carry the Blue Dog PAC’s endorsement: Dr. Jasmeet Bains (CA-22), Bob Brooks (PA-07), Johnny Garcia (TX-35), and Bobby Pulido (TX-15).

These four Blue Dogs join fellow Red to Blue candidates Jamie Ager (NC-11) and Rebecca Cooke (WI-03), two Blue Dogs who were named to the program in February. The program arms top-tier challengers running in Republican-held districts with strategic guidance, staff resources, and fundraising support. It also boosts their profile at home and within the Democratic Party as candidates who can win and deserve broad support.

The Red to Blue Program provides a glimpse into the House battleground and the top-tier contenders in races that will determine the House majority. The fact that six Blue Dog-backed candidates are among the candidates announced in the first two waves validates that the path to the House majority runs through Trump-won districts, and Blue Dog Democrats have repeatedly been the ones to win tough races in these types of districts.

New Blue Dog-Backed Red to Blue Additions:

Dr. Jasmeet Bains (CA-22)

Dr. Jasmeet Bains was raised in Delano and is a physician and current California State Assemblymember representing the Central Valley.

Elected in 2022, she made history as the first Sikh American woman in the legislature. She is now running for the chance to take on Rep. David Valadao this fall, but first she must prevail in a competitive June 2 primary against a well-funded progressive challenger who does not live in the district.

Listen to our recent conversation with Dr. Bains on Blue Dog Radio to hear about her path from selling cars at her family’s dealership to becoming the only doctor in a rural Central Valley town, what she’s learned serving in the California State Assembly, and the vote by Rep. David Valadao that ultimately pushed her to run for Congress.

Bob Brooks (PA-07)

Bob Brooks spent 20 years as a Bethlehem firefighter and currently serves as President of the Pennsylvania Professional Fire Fighters Association, the union representing 8,000 firefighters across Pennsylvania.

He is running for the opportunity to take on first-term Congressman Ryan Mackenzie, but first he must prevail in a crowded May 19 primary. The district, PA-07, is rated as R+1 by the Cook Political Report. Bob Brooks is a working class champion who has spent his career standing up for better pay, better healthcare, and safer working conditions for all workers. He’s the Democrat with the best chance to defeat Ryan Mackenzie in this bellwether Pennsylvania district that will be one of the most competitive districts in the country.

Johnny Garcia (TX-35)

Johnny Garcia, born and raised on the West side of San Antonio, is a longtime Bexar County Sheriff’s Deputy with nearly two decades of law enforcement experience, including time as a SWAT hostage negotiator and as a public information officer. He has deep ties in the district.

Johnny advanced out of a crowded primary and is headed to a May 26 runoff. His runoff opponent is ideologically far outside of the mainstream. The district, TX-35, is a newly drawn Trump +10 district. Johnny is the only candidate who can keep it in play.

In a recent podcast episode of Blue Dog Radio, we sat down with Johnny to discuss growing up in San Antonio, working construction and plumbing before entering law enforcement, and the affordability issues facing working families in Texas.

Bobby Pulido (TX-15)

Bobby Pulido was born and raised in Edinburg, Texas, where he still lives today with his wife. He is the proud father of four sons, raising his family in the same community that shaped him. He pursued a music career that made him a Tejano music icon with deep name recognition across South Texas.

He secured a decisive March primary victory with 67% of the vote and will head into the general election against Republican incumbent Monica De La Cruz. The district, TX-15, is rated R+7 by Cook Political Report. Pulido represents a new kind of Blue Dog candidate: culturally resonant, independent-minded, and positioned to compete in one of the most closely watched and competitive districts in the country.

Blue Dogs Named to the Red to Blue Program in February:

Jamie Ager (NC-11)

Jamie Ager is a fourth-generation farmer and small business owner from western North Carolina. He built his family farm into a successful, sustainable small business. When Hurricane Helene devastated the region, he opened his home and farm to neighbors in need and worked alongside them to rebuild, while the Republican incumbent, Rep. Chuck Edwards, was absent.

He secured a decisive primary victory with nearly 65% of the vote and will face Chuck Edwards in November. The district, NC-11, is rated by Cook Political Report as R+5. Ager embodies the Blue Dog model: practical, independent, and he’s built to compete in one of the most challenging districts in the country.

Check out Blue Dog Radio’s podcast episode where we chatted with Jamie at his family farm about disaster recovery after Hurricane Helene, immigration, small business, environmental stewardship, and the challenge of representing a district that stretches from rural mountain communities to Asheville’s creative core.

Rebecca Cooke (WI-03)

Rebecca Cooke is a sixth-generation Wisconsinite who grew up on a dairy farm in Eau Claire and has since built a career as a small business owner, nonprofit leader, and waitress, with deep roots in Western Wisconsin.

She already secured the nomination once before in this district, coming within three points of defeating incumbent Republican Derrick Van Orden in 2024. Cooke is running again in a highly competitive race with the primary set for August 11. The district, WI-03, is rated by Cook Political Report as R+3. With strong early positioning, Cooke represents a quintessential Blue Dog candidate: pragmatic, locally trusted, and built to win in a true battleground district.

Listen to Blue Dog Radio’s podcast episode to hear us chat with Rebecca about growing up on a farm, working restaurant shifts while running for Congress, what western Wisconsin voters are worried about, why Washington keeps missing the point, and what comes next in one of the most competitive races in the country.

The Bigger Picture

Republicans currently hold a slim House majority. In 2024, Trump carried 230 of the 435 congressional districts. Winning districts and states that have reliably voted for President Trump is the only path for Democrats to take back the House.

Blue Dog Democrats outperformed Kamala Harris in 2024 by an average of 5%. They were also the number one electoral overperformers among ideological House Caucuses, according to Split Ticket data.

For the 2026 midterms, the Blue Dogs have a slate of candidates with deep local roots, real records of service, and the credibility to speak to voters who feel overlooked by both parties. From Western North Carolina to South Texas to California’s Central Valley, Blue Dog Democrats are the most credible, well-positioned candidates to compete in the most competitive districts in the country.

With six Blue Dog-backed candidates now named to the Red to Blue Program, the path to the House majority is coming into focus, and it runs straight through the Trump-won districts where Blue Dogs have always been built to win.

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A lot of politicians tell you where they stand before they tell you where they’re from.

Shannon Bird starts somewhere else.

A trailer park with a single mother and a grandmother dealing cards in Nevada casinos. The tip money helped hold a family together.

“I grew up with the most incredible abundance of love and support with my mom and grandma and little sister,” Bird tells us on this week’s episode of Blue Dog Radio. “To have anything in this world, you have to work twice as hard as anybody else. You don’t take a single opportunity for granted.”

Hers is a political biography assembled out of textured memories like quiet Sundays, laundry, and a little dog in a trailer lot.

There’s a memory of a child putting ants into a jewelry box because she wanted her dog to have friends.

That last story appears in our conversation almost accidentally, and because it does, it says a lot.

This is a person who notices things and does something about them.

Bird likes to say she came to politics through volunteering in her children’s classrooms.

But really, if you listen closely, she came through the women who raised her.

“The lessons I learned from them were literally to fight like hell… you have a backbone and you get the business done.”

Fight like hell. That’s card table language. That’s a working language.

And it may explain why Bird has built a reputation in Colorado as a legislator willing, at times, to vote against her own party.

In an era where the label of independent gets tossed around loosely, hers seems rooted in something deeper: obligation & stewardship.

When asked what goes through her mind casting a difficult dissenting vote, she spoke on the people she represents:

“I have a responsibility… I’ve made a commitment to them that I’m gonna be watching out for them.”

Bird describes knocking on the door of a widow living alone in a studio apartment, surviving on fixed income math so dire that a one dollar increase in utility costs could mean one less grocery item.

“The votes you take and the decisions you make, they’re not just theory. It’s going to have a direct impact on people and their lives.”

That may be the whole Blue Dog argument in one sentence. Politics should be judged at the level of lived consequence. Not ideology. Consequences.

Shannon Bird is running to represent CO-08 in the House of Representatives.. She is a great candidate not only because she has a compelling résumé, but because she still understands politics as relational.

Door to door. Neighbor to neighbor.

“When people like me succeed, we don’t forget where we came from.”

Who has forgotten? Who still remembers? That question hangs over more than one race in America right now.

There is a moment in our interview when Bird describes flying into Colorado for the first time and being struck not by mountains, but by “random bodies of water,” by green belts, by a state she felt “loves its people and invests to make people’s lives better.”

We live in a time where politics is often presented as combat detached from place.

Bird keeps pulling it back to Colorado.

Schools. Housing. Water. Neighborhoods. Children.

It’s a worldview worth paying attention to.

Tomorrow on Blue Dog Radio, our full conversation with Shannon Bird drops.

We talk about trailer park childhoods, school funding, housing, dissent, democratic faith, and what she means when she says the country can still course correct.

And maybe most importantly:

What it looks like when politics is still understood as a way of looking out for people.

Listen tomorrow.

Subscribe to Blue Dog Radio.

And if you haven’t yet, subscribe to Blue Dog Bark, where we still believe the best political stories begin with people, not talking points.

More tomorrow.

In 2024, Wisconsin’s 3rd District wasn’t expected to be competitive.

Donald Trump was back on the ballot, Republican turnout surged across western Wisconsin, and Democrats were still trying to piece together a national campaign that could keep up with it all.

WI-03 had already flipped once, during the midterm election in 2022. It leaned Republican at the state and federal levels. Incumbent Derrick Van Orden, a controversy-prone partisan with a brash reputation and a willingness to lean into it, was predicted to hold the seat in 2024 without much trouble.

Instead, the race tightened. And then it almost flipped back to blue..

Wisconsin waitress and small business leader Rebecca Cooke lost by less than three points. That alone would’ve made it notable. But the more revealing detail came after the votes were counted.

In a recent interview on Blue Dog Radio, she explained why the results showed proof of future success.

“I got 9,000 more votes than Kamala Harris, 5,000 more votes than Senator Tammy Baldwin.”

In a district where Democrats have struggled to consistently compete, Cooke didn’t just keep pace at the top of the ticket. She outran it. That tends to change how a race is viewed the next time around.

Like so many Blue Dogs, Cooke’s path to this moment doesn’t follow a usual arc.

She grew up in western Wisconsin on a dairy farm, part of a family operation that eventually couldn’t hold. Like many dairies in her hometown, it simply became an unsustainable operation.

“It wasn’t just my dad selling our cows and it wasn’t like, oh, this is just a business thing that didn’t work. It was part of our heritage.”

She’s worked in restaurants, run a small business, and stayed rooted in the same communities she grew up in that have seen population loss, economic tightening, and fewer pathways forward than they once had.

That background shows up most clearly in how she talks about the voters she’s trying to represent.

“They are worried about how they are going to be able to pay their mortgage. They’re worried about getting their kid to basketball practice, or they’re worried about taking care of their aging parents.”

Her western Wisconsin district stretches across small towns, agricultural communities, and regional hubs like La Crosse and Eau Claire. It has a history of ticket splitting, a strong independent streak, and an electorate that has shown a willingness to move when it feels like neither party is speaking directly to it.

That volatility is part of what made 2024 close. It’s also what makes 2026 so exciting.

Cooke’s argument isn’t built around ideological positioning as much as it is around function.

“If we want to expand a big tent… it’s getting to the places where people aren’t talking about politics.”

That includes voters who don’t show up to rallies, don’t spend time online arguing about policy, and don’t see themselves reflected in national political language.

“They don’t have time for that shit because they’re working.”

That context matters in western Wisconsin. This is about whether a candidate feels like someone who understands the pace and pressure of daily life outside political spaces.

Derrick Van Orden, by contrast, has leaned into attention-seeking behavior.

His time in Congress has included high-profile moments of controversy, confrontations with teenagers, and a media presence that extends well beyond the district itself.

Cooke’s contrast with the incumbent is direct.

“We don’t want our members of Congress to make national headlines… we want our members of Congress to get things done.”

In a race that was already close, that distinction is likely to be tested more the second time around.

Rematches in districts like WI-03 don’t always follow the same script. But they do tend to reveal who learned something the first go around.

Rebecca Cooke comes back more tested, more well-known, and even more rooted in the place she’s asking to represent. In western Wisconsin, people take a punch and go again.

And this time, she’s not coming back just to continue the fight. She’s coming back to end it.

Full episode of Blue Dog Radio with Rebecca Cooke drops later this week.

There’s more to this story.

The Central Valley has a health care problem, and Washington keeps sending politicians.

Ahead of a new episode of Blue Dog Radio dropping later this week, we sat down with Dr. Jasmeet Bains, a sitting California State Assemblymember, practicing family physician, and Blue Dog candidate for Congress in CA-22, to talk about what it actually looks like to serve a community like hers.

Before she ever stepped into politics, Dr. Bains was working in a rural clinic in California’s Central Valley. She treated patients who didn’t have insurance, watched as families fell through the cracks, and dealt with the kind of decisions that don’t show up in campaign messaging.

And when she talks about it, it doesn’t sound like abstract policy. It’s something she’s lived through.

“I saw grown men break down in my office because their kids are not getting that continuity of care.”

A Place People Talk About, But Don’t Really Understand

The Central Valley gets talked about a lot. Usually from far away.

It’s known as an agricultural backbone, a political battleground, and an economic case study. But what you don’t hear enough about is what it actually feels like to live there, especially if you’re not doing great.

Bains grew up in Delano, a small town and immigrant community. It’s tight knit, loyal to the soil, but not an easy place to raise a family.

And when she talks about it, Dr. Bains doesn’t romanticize it.

“Kids in Delano don’t grow up thinking they’re going to be a doctor… most of us just grow up hoping that we make it to our 18th birthday.”

Shortly after deciding to run for Congress, Dr Bains’ neighbor’s son was shot and killed in an act of gang violence. At 1 AM, she ran out of her house and into her front yard, trying to resuscitate him. She couldn’t save him.

This is the kind of environment she’s operating in.

You can’t workshop that into a campaign message. It’s the reality of living in her hometown.

It’s a place that has been dealing with the hard stuff of real life for a long time.

And not a lot of people in power have actually sat with those sorts of problems.

Not a Political Origin Story

Dr. Bains is not someone who set out to be a politician. She has not held internships on the Hill. Her path has not been perfectly plotted.

She was born to Punjabi Sikh immigrants from India. Her father worked as an auto mechanic and her mother worked odd jobs to help put Bains and her siblings through school.

She sold cars at her father’s dealership. Then she went to medical school. Not the Ivy League route, and not on any polished pipeline.

After that she came back to work in the same kinds of places she grew up in.

At one point, she was the only doctor at a Medicaid clinic in Taft, a rural town smack dab next to Midway-Sunset Oil Field, one of the largest and oldest oil fields in the U.S.

One doctor for an entire town.

This is a community where when people lose their jobs or their insurance there’s not a lot of slack in the system’s net to catch them. Because Bains is their doctor, she’s watching what happens next in their lives. People don’t just lose coverage. They lose continuity, access to medication, and options.

The Part That Should Make Both Parties Uncomfortable

One of the more striking parts of Bains’ platform is how little patience she has for the usual partisan framing.

Not in a performative “both sides” way, but a very specific, lived-in way.

“They were sacrificed by both sides of the aisle,” she says about the people in her community.

That’s coming from someone who has watched industries disappear, jobs vanish, patients move from private insurance to Medicaid, and from Medicaid to nothing.

And it leads to a pretty clear-eyed observation: You cannot talk about economic growth without talking about health care access. And you definitely can’t talk fully about either of those things if you’ve never actually had to sit across from someone dealing with the consequences.

Dr. Bains ran for the California State Assembly in 2022 and won. In her time representing her community in the Assembly, she’s come to recognize something about her colleagues very clearly: “We got a lot of talkers. We don’t got a lot of doers.”

That’s not exactly a groundbreaking statement when talking about politicians, but coming from her it lands differently. Because she’s not saying it as a critique of politics in theory - she’s saying it as someone who had already been doing the work of serving her community.

There’s a version of politics where the job is to message, position, and react. To get noticed on the internet. On TV. To be praised for taking on the issue of the day.

There’s another version of politics where the job is to solve, treat, and stabilize. Those are not the same skillsets. In a place like the Central Valley where the community needs real results, that difference matters.

The Moment Things Changed

Dr. Bains didn’t plan to run for Congress. In fact, she was pretty clear that she wasn’t going to do it.

That changed when her Member of Congress, Rep. David Valadao, voted for the so-called “One Big Beautiful Bill”. More than 68,000 people in the Central Valley stand to lose their health insurance because of that vote. It was a vote that will further strip health care access from the very people Dr. Bains has been treating for years.

For her, this vote wasn’t abstract. It wasn’t partisan. It was a gut punch to the communities she’s served for years. And her reaction was immediate.

“I remember seeing that… and I remember going, well, looks like we’re going to run for Congress.”

It’s the kind of quick decision you make when you feel like you’re already responsible for something important and the stakes got higher.

What This Race Actually Is

There are going to be plenty of ways outside observers will try to characterize this election.

Left vs right. Insider vs outsider. National vs local.

But for Dr. Jasmeet Bains, this election feels like something different, and personal.

This is about whether a place that has been studied, debated, and overlooked finally gets represented by someone who has actually been in the trenches there.

Someone who understands that health care in this district is not an abstract issue, policy bullet point or debate topic.

She ties it together plainly:

“This is a life and death problem here.”

The Central Valley has been waiting a long time for something to change.

And the question in this race is pretty simple:

Does CA-22 want another politician who can talk about the system? Or someone who has been working inside it trying to keep people afloat while it fails them?

Those are two very different things.

And one of them might actually be what this place needs.

Full episode of Blue Dog Radio with Dr. Jasmeet Bains drops Wednesday, March 25th.

These candidates did it by talking about real responsibility, having local roots, and winning primaries in places Democrats actually have to compete.

And despite being attacked by their opponents for being Blue Dogs, they won.

The lesson is simple: Blue Dog values are a great foundation for success, and Democratic primary voters agree.

Not because these values are trendy – because they’re grounded in the places these candidates come from.

Western North Carolina: Jamie Ager

The clearest signal came out of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

Fourth generation farmer Jamie Ager dominated the Democratic primary in North Carolina’s 11th Congressional District, defeating his closest opponent by nearly 50 points.

Ager didn’t run away from the Blue Dog label. He embraced it. He talked about farming, community, stewardship of the land, and pragmatic leadership rooted in Western North Carolina itself.

Now he turns to the general election against Republican incumbent Chuck Edwards, a race that suddenly looks far more competitive than many expected.

The district once elected a Blue Dog before being carved apart by gerrymandering. With its boundaries restored to something closer to the communities it represents, Ager has a legitimate chance to flip the seat.

And if that happens, it will be because he loves his home and leaned into it.

South Texas: Bobby Pulido

In Texas’s 15th Congressional District, Bobby Pulido delivered another decisive primary victory.

Pulido, a Tejano music icon with deep roots in South Texas, defeated his opponent by more than 35 points, despite significant spending on the other side designed to take the race off the rails.

Pulido now heads toward what will undoubtedly be an intense general election fight.

But he enters it with something that matters more than punditry: a big, broad coalition of voters who believe he represents the district they live in.

South Texas: Vicente Gonzalez

Meanwhile, in Texas’s 34th Congressional District, incumbent Blue Dog Vicente Gonzalez also secured his place on the ballot.

Gonzalez has built a reputation as one of the most durable Democrats in a region where political winds can shift quickly.

His continued success underscores something important: the Blue Dog approach isn’t just about winning primaries.

It’s about holding seats again and again that Democrats might otherwise lose.

And in a House where every seat matters, that fight counts.

San Antonio: Johnny Garcia

A race that deserves more attention right now is unfolding in Texas’s 35th Congressional District.

Johnny Garcia, a Bexar County Sheriff’s deputy and trained SWAT hostage negotiator, finished a razor-thin second place in a crowded Democratic primary and advanced to a May 26 runoff.

Garcia is a first-time candidate who stepped up to run after Texas Republicans redrew the district lines during their mid-decade gerrymander.

The primary itself was crowded, fought in the expensive San Antonio media market while most voter attention was focused elsewhere. Yet Garcia broke through. And now the stakes are clear.

If Garcia wins the runoff, Democrats will have a candidate capable of competing in November.

If he doesn’t, the seat likely disappears from the electoral map. Why? Well, you can read about his opponent in the runoff here.

Garcia describes himself as an “old school Democrat.” The kind who focuses on public service, community, and solving problems rather than performing politics online.

In a district like TX-35, that matters. Because voters there aren’t looking for ideological spectacle. They’re looking for someone who understands their community and can represent it.

The Pattern

Look at these races together and the pattern becomes obvious.

These candidates ran as Blue Dogs, were attacked for being Blue Dogs, and won anyway.

Why?

Because Democratic voters in competitive districts understand that at the end of the day, winning matters.

Blue Dogs aren’t a brand exercise or thought experiment.

They’re a governing tradition rooted in local credibility, pragmatism, and coalition building. No political games. Just progress.

That approach has built durable Democratic majorities in the past. And it can help build it again.

The Road Ahead

Primaries are only the beginning.

Jamie Ager now faces a tough general election in Western North Carolina.

Bobby Pulido will enter what promises to be a bruising race in South Texas.

Vicente Gonzalez will once again defend his seat in a region that demands a representative who fits their local culture.

And Johnny Garcia heads into a May 26 runoff that may determine whether TX-35 remains competitive at all.

But one thing is already clear from the past week.

When candidates run as Blue Dogs grounded in place, community, and practical leadership, voters notice. And more often than not, they win.

November is still a long way off. But the path to flipping the House just got a little clearer.

Arriving into Western North Carolina is not as simple as it used to be.

Hurricane Helene made landfall on September 27, 2024. Eighteen months later, Asheville Regional Airport is still operating in partial recovery, so the most reliable route is to land in South Carolina and drive north through a corridor of glowing gas stations and late-night Waffle Houses that feel like checkpoints between worlds.

There is no cinematic shift at the state line. It just gets darker. The roads narrow. The signage thins. Speeds oscillate between oddly fast and inexplicably slow.

Fairview announces itself quietly. Fallen trees stacked along shoulders. A dim Dollar General holding down a corner. Boarded storefronts abandoned.

The air smells like cold soil. The February wind dries your hands and cuts through denim. A city jacket is useless against it.

Jamie watches cattle at the fence, mountains rising behind him.

The layered Appalachian Mountains rise in almost every direction.

By the end of a week in Fairview, the roads feel familiar. You learn which curves demand attention, which gravel pull-offs give way under truck tires, which BBQ stand has the better sauce. It is possible for a place to feel isolated and deeply connected at the same time.

The Land Remembers

Helene did not produce one viral image. It tore through creeks and hollows, rerouting water where water had always run another way.

On a weekday afternoon, Lori, a Cherokee waitress with family roots through these hills, drives us from Fairview toward Bat Cave and down to Lake Lure. She does not rush the tour. She stops frequently and takes it all in.

Temporary stoplights govern narrow one-lane stretches carved from what used to be two. Cinder blocks and sandbags sit unused in parking lots. Some restaurants have reopened. Many have not.

Lake Lure, the setting for Dirty Dancing, was partially drained for cleanup after the storm. The shoreline looks exposed and unfamiliar.

Uprooted sycamore, root ball exposed above the creek.

Root balls sit in creeks where they do not belong.

Crushed vehicles along the road to Lake Lure.

At several bends, vehicles lie crumpled among trees. Metal folded inward. Paint dulled by silt and time.

Standing there, politics feels smaller.

On Hickory Nut Gap later that week, Jamie Ager says it plainly.

“Nature bats last.”

The national press descended for a few days in late 2024. Then it moved on. Eighteen months later, recovery is slow. FEMA supplies sit stacked in corners. Some of it has been used. A lot of it has not.

When asked about the incumbent congressman, Chuck Edwards, locals are direct.

“We didn’t see him,” one says.

Jamie does not hedge when the topic comes up.

 ”Part of what leadership is, is showing up in your community for people who have been through a lot of big trauma and emotions,” he says.

“I didn’t see Chuck Edwards show up hardly at all in the community afterwards. It’s unfortunate because I feel like that was a real missed opportunity for showing his leadership.”

Lori stands on a ridge overlooking scars carved into hillsides. She does not narrate it. She surveys.

Gratitude and shock can exist at the same time. That the place was ever this beautiful. That it may never be the same again.

The Rhythm of a Farm

Hickory Nut Gap Farm is a full blown operation.

Freshly cut grass. Crisp mountain air. Cattle moving in deliberate rotations across hillsides. Pigs huddled together for warmth.

Jamie kneeling among the pigs.

The farm is not extravagant, but it is in constant motion. Fences being mended. Systems refined. People moving with purpose.

Jamie stands at a fence line, watching cattle move toward hay. His hands look strong. His coat is worn and lived in.

He speaks slowly at first. Then faster when something excites him. He laughs easily. When he gets going, a small fleck of dried spit gathers at his lip. He doesn’t notice and no one points it out.

Calf born that morning, mother standing guard.

A calf born that morning lies in the grass, wobbling through its first hours. The mother grows agitated as we approach.

“You’re okay,” Jamie tells her. “We’re just lookin’.”

Lunch hour at Hickory Nut Gap Farm.

He points to hillsides and describes how water once ran. Which fences had to be rebuilt. Which neighbors climbed ladders into their own homes when floodwaters trapped them.

Some newer structures came down easily in the storm. Older barns, built more than a century ago, remain standing.

Prairie, his English Springer Spaniel, moves across the farm with a knowing calm. When a campaign for Congress pulls Jamie away, she wanders uphill to the Big House, where his parents live. There are always other dogs there. Always someone to spoil them.

Legacy

The Big House sits above the farm, built in the 1800s. Drafty. Expansive. Multiple kitchens. A natural spring. Walls covered in photographs, clippings, portraits. It is the home of Jamie’s parents John & Annie.

It is also said to have a ghost. A woman in a long dress whose appearance precedes a death in the family.

John Ager tells the story with pride. The next day, Jamie shrugs.

“Oh yeah, the ghost,” he says. “You don’t want to see her.”

Interior mural depicting nineteenth-century farm life.

Paintings on many walls of the Big House depict life on this land long before grocery chains and social media.

John and Annie outside the Big House.

Jamie’s grandfather, Jamie Clarke, served in Congress in the 1980s. His father, John, served in the North Carolina State House. His brother Eric followed. His brother Doug runs a solar company that lost a million dollars in panels during Helene.

“We’re a fourth generation farm,” Jamie says. “For better or worse.”

Jamie beside an ancestor’s portrait.

Cow skull in a wheelbarrow.

A cow skull rests in a wheelbarrow near one of the barns. It is not decorative or dramatic. It is part of the work.

Inside the house, lunch is on the stove. Stories move across the table. An old lady washes eggs by hand.

The Tension

North Carolina’s 11th Congressional District is not easy ground for a Democrat. Donald Trump carried the district. The region blends rural conservatism with Asheville’s liberal identity.

Jamie Ager is running against Chuck Edwards in 2026. It is his first time seeking public office.

Jamie on the phone near the barn.

He makes calls from the farm. Asks for endorsements directly.

When asked about Edwards’ absence after Helene, he does not soften it.

“ It does take courage to show up when things are hard and people are angry and pissed off and all that,” Jamie says.

“But to me that’s exactly when you need to be available for people and show up and listen and hear ‘em and try to be helpful.”

Campaign sign being hammered into stubborn soil.

On a hillside, Jamie, his teenage son, and a family friend hammer a campaign sign into the ground. It is slow work. The soil along the Charlotte Highway resists.

He talks about “big hard problems.” Healthcare access in rural counties. Small business fragility. The balance between environmental protection and workable regulation.

“To me, the ability to kind of lean into hard conversations and to be available for people is part of what good leadership is,” he says.  ”We need leaders who are willing to step up, dig in, do the hard work of finding solutions, knowing it’s not gonna be easy. That their heart is truly in the right place to try to make things better for the people in their communities.”

Storm-damaged woods, Jamie pointing out where water once ran.

He walks through woods reshaped by Helene and describes how the land looked before. He surveys more than he gestures.

When he decided to run, he asked his farm staff to make pros and cons lists. He weighed the decision with them. His staff was encouraging and ready for the opportunity to step up.

“ Things are gonna be all right around here,” he says.

Presence

Prairie behind the fence, watching.

On a cold morning, Prairie stands behind a fence and watches the hills.

Jamie Ager is a farmer who thinks he can help fix Congress. Washington is not a barnyard. It is not a fence line that can be mended with a few steady hands and patience.

But in Western North Carolina, where water has rewritten maps and older barns outlast newer ones, leadership is less about spectacle than about showing up.

It is about walking the land, picking up stray debris eighteen months after the cameras left.

It is about believing that the place you were born still matters enough to fight for.

And it is about understanding that nature, and perhaps voters, bat last.

Two national stories landed today, one in The New York Times and one in The Washington Post. Taken together they tell a story that feels familiar to anyone paying attention to this channel.

Democrats aren’t winning everywhere. But in places long written off as unwinnable, something real is happening and Blue Dogs are at the middle of it.

The Times framed it as a strategy shift: Democrats recruiting candidates with unusual resumes and deep local credibility to compete in districts Donald Trump won by double digits. A Tejano recording star in South Texas. A fourth generation farmer in western North Carolina.

The Post focused on the spark: a Texas special election where a working class, union backed Democrat flipped a deep red district Trump carried by 17 points. Not by running as a culture warrior, but by talking about prices, work, and responsibility.

Different lenses. Same conclusion.

This isn’t just a vibe shift. It’s credibility earned in being of and for a place. It means more when it’s home.

Strip away the national framing and quotes from party leaders and a very consistent pattern emerges.

Candidates like Bobby Pulido, Jamie Ager, Johnny Garcia, and Rep. Vicente Gonzalez are not asking voters to adopt a new identity. They’re asking them to reconsider what representation looks like when it’s rooted in place.

The Times puts it plainly when quoting Ager, a western North Carolina farmer running in a Trump plus ten district:

“Running in that sort of rural ‘Blue Dog’ lane is part of who I am.”

That line could apply just as easily to South Texas or the Rio Grande Valley. It’s not ideological positioning. It’s a lived reality. These candidates aren’t trying to look like something they’re not. They already belong to the communities they’re running in.

The Post sharpens the point by tracing why this stands out. Voters who gave Trump the benefit of the doubt on affordability and governance are feeling buyer’s remorse. Prices didn’t come down. Stability didn’t return. And the culture war ramps up by the day.

What is resonating is something less flashy: candidates who talk about hard work, show restraint, and don’t treat politics like a performance.

Johnny Garcia as a case study

Which brings us to today’s new episode of Blue Dog Radio.

Our conversation with Johnny Garcia, a sheriff’s deputy from Bexar County running in Texas’s 35th District, sits right in this moment.

Garcia leads with experience. Growing up on the west side of San Antonio. Working construction and plumbing. Managing programs inside the county jail. Serving on patrol. Acting as a SWAT hostage negotiator.

When he tells voters that he never asked dispatch whether the house he was responding to was Democratic or Republican, that resonates with people. Not because it’s clever, but because it’s true.

The Post notes that Garcia is trying to redefine for voters what it means to be a Democrat in a district Trump would have carried by ten points. The Times shows that this redefinition is happening all over the country. Often quietly, but the national fanfare is growing by the day.

Taken together, the message is simple:

Politics works better when it looks and sounds like real life.

Every past Democratic majority has been built by candidates willing to run where it’s hard, speak plainly, and earn trust face to face.

The national press is taking notice of what these Blue Dog candidates have known for a while. There are no shortcuts back to credibility. Only work.

And that work is happening right now in places the map used to ignore.

New episode out NOW:

Johnny Garcia on Blue Dog Radio
A conversation about work, public service, public safety, and what representation can look like when it’s grounded and human.

Listen & download episode here.

We live our lives in a series of non-places. Take a road trip and you can cross hundreds of miles without encountering anything that meaningfully signals where you are. The same standardized blue sign with the words FOOD, FUEL, LODGING in white letters appears alongside half a dozen icons of global conglomerates: McDonald’s, Starbucks, Chevron, Hilton, KFC, Holiday Inn. You take the exit only to be blinded by neon floodlights. Throughout the journey — crossing geographic terrains and state lines — the scene is hauntingly repetitive.

The term “non-places” was coined by French anthropologist Marc Augé. A non-place is defined against what Augé calls an anthropological place — a relational, social space. A locally operated diner, for example, has “regulars,” people who may occupy the same table every week and know each other’s names and histories. It’s somewhere people go to feel a sense of know-how specific to place and community. Children and parents may run into other families from school; clerks may recognize customers; there’s a sense that people know one another. While all of these experiences may happen at a corporate chain restaurant such as McDonald’s, Augé argues the space isn’t designed for it. Instead, it functions as an interface, where the customer is a standardized unit — a place where you are often alone and simultaneously “one of many,: and where one trades the identity of a community member for the role-playing identity of a consumer. Augé acknowledges that while these places provide convenience — and even the pleasures of anonymity — they are not organically social spaces but reproductions of them: spectacles.

These spaces are a product of what Augé calls “supermodernity,” a period marked by mass consumption, digital life, and an excess of time, space, and individualism. His observations about excess are important. The news, hypersaturated by “breaking news” alerts, leaves us little time to process events and creates a fractured, selective understanding of reality. In a hyperconnected, globalized world, spaces are designed for transit, producing the feeling of passing through an excess of places without meaningful connection to any one of them. The individual inhabiting the world of supermodernity is a “user” of contractual relations — a consumer, a passenger, a credit card holder. It is this oversaturation of information, images, and non-places that sets us up to be consumers rather than relational beings.

Recently in Los Angeles, I was visiting some friends in Venice Beach. “You have to go to the east side of L.A. to find anything cool,” they told me. “There’s too much sameness here.” I knew exactly what they meant. I’d experienced it in other cities. In Washington, D.C., 14th Street was once the heart of Black Washington and now hosts the same “SoulCycle corridor” as Venice. Williamsburg, Brooklyn — once a landing point for new immigrants, Jewish, Puerto Rican, Ukrainian, Polish — has fallen to the same phenomenon. Along with SoulCycle, the stationary bike fitness studio owned by the $7 billion global fitness company Equinox Group, these neighborhoods are home to chains like Whole Foods, Lululemon, and Sweetgreen. The businesses play the same role as a corporate highway park full of Walmarts, Starbucks, Chick-fil-A, Marshalls, and Olive Gardens. They are simply filtered, rebranded, and priced for a wealthier class.

Coffee brands such as La Colombe, Blue Bottle Coffee, and Intelligentsia are staples in these urban corridors. They are products of the “craft” craze of the mid to late 2000s, which ironically turned a fixation with localism into an aesthetic that could be packaged and branded across geography. La Colombe started as a small-batch roastery in the 1990s in Philadelphia and was bought in 2023 by the food giant Chobani for $900 million. Blue Bottle, which derives its name from the original Viennese coffee shops of the 1600s, began in Oakland in the early 2000s before Nestlé acquired a majority stake in the company. Intelligentsia and Stumptown have similar stories and have both been acquired by Peet’s Coffee & Tea. Here, what started as “anthropological places” rooted in community has morphed into non-places — standardized copies of what was once authentic, designed to fit a commercialized aesthetic.

In 2005, Google moved into Venice, leading the area to be dubbed “Silicon Beach.” The constant sunshine and proximity to Hollywood—the same dream that once lured the hippies — now drew investors with their startups and “accelerators,” and visions of “online marketplaces.” Silicon Beach, which includes neighboring Playa Vista and Culver City, is now home to over 500 tech companies, including Google, Amazon, and Snapchat.

The area’s famous street, Abbot Kinney, retains a few local spots dating back to the 1990s — Abbot’s Pizza Company and the artist space Hamilton Press Gallery — but these are overshadowed by the same dozen “lifestyle” brands developed for the professional class. SoulCycle promotes its abundance of locations as a perk for the global elite: wherever you go, you can catch your morning spin class with the same predictable routine. Afterwards, you can mobile-order your favorite $16 salad from Sweetgreen or pick up a new pair of yoga pants at Lululemon. For a globalized professional class, this routine can be carried out in half a dozen major American cities. The illusion, as Augé captures, is that you don’t have to be a traveler to experience this. You can live in one of these cities and still experience the same sense of being in transit — floating not as a resident with local ties and roots in a neighborhood, but as a consumer, an individual with credit card points and loyalty status, all at the tap of a digital wallet.

This helps explain why moving through American life in the 21st century can feel repetitive, dull, and even soulless. In the exurbs, residents pile into their cars for a weekly shopping trip to the same handful of corporate big-box stores. Many have abandoned this routine altogether, opting instead for doorstep delivery services for basic goods like groceries, appliances, and clothing. Some of these products arrive through Amazon, the world’s largest online retailer, valued at over $2.5 trillion. Others come via third-party delivery apps like DoorDash, Uber Eats, and Grubhub. These apps offer “contactless” delivery, in which the driver leaves the order at the door and uploads a photo to the app — an arrangement that takes to its extreme Augé’s concept of solitary contractuality, where social interaction is replaced by the machine.

Americans never consented to live like this. Instead, the corporate takeover of everyday life was facilitated by policy choices made in the 1980s and 1990s by a technocratic, bipartisan class increasingly unmoored from democratic accountability. I’ve written more about this process for the Blue Dog Bark in a piece on globalization. For Augé, globalization is the transformation of political economy that produced supermodernity. In this globalized technocratic landscape, citizens become users of the infrastructure of everyday life. Our daily experiences — withdrawing money at the bank, ordering a meal, purchasing home goods — are increasingly conducted over screens, or mediated through the human face of a corporate entity. We’ve all experienced this mundane ritual at the checkout lane of a supermarket, in the predictable, often robotic “how are you” and “have a good day.” What results is an eerie simulation of social life in which human recognition is reduced to a standardized user experience.

The German philosopher Hegel argued that recognition — the experience of being “seen” by others as a full participant in a shared social world — is the foundation of human freedom. This requires social and relational life. In other words, people must be someone to each other; they cannot exist as interchangeable units. A supermarket cashier, for example, must be part of the social fabric of a place where others encounter and recognize them as a human being, not merely for their commercial or labor value.

The transformation of society into non-places has left public life devoid of meaning. Recognition — the most basic source of our shared humanity — has become secondary to a system in which we are constantly acknowledged as consumers and rarely known as people. What is at stake is far greater than charm or localism; it is the conditions under which people come to recognize one another as equals in a shared world.

The conventional wisdom about American political parties has long been set: Democrats are the party of big government and Republicans are the party of small government. Like most conventional wisdoms in politics, this has only ever been half true and is actually a rather recent formula. Historically, both of America’s major parties were far too diverse to ever be summarized in such a neat and tidy way. The Democratic Party has a long and glorious tradition of skepticism towards centralized political power that is paralleled by thoughtful Republicans who frequently wish to exercise the authority of the state. In recent years, the idea of a purely libertarian Republican Party has been thoroughly smashed apart as Donald Trump gleefully seizes more state and local powers than any other president since Franklin Roosevelt. These blatant, and sometimes frightening, power grabs require an answer from the Democratic Party, one that goes beyond a left wing mirror image of nationalism and instead seeks to challenge the basic assumptions of the modern GOP’s statist approach to government.

To really examine the tradition of small government Democrats requires some serious excavation. The political narratives of Reaganite Republicans and left wing historians have sought, with alarming success, to bury the legacy of any and all political figures who do not reflect their preferred view of the political parties.

As part of this, progressive politicians and scholars have associated Democrats skeptical of national power almost exclusively with the old segregationist Democrats of the American South. Meanwhile, Republicans have preferred to argue that Democrats who believe in limited government are oddities – random flukes who are essentially Republicans but have somehow ended up registered for the wrong party. While racists and closeted Republicans certainly do represent some of the small government Democrats throughout history, there is in truth a much richer and far more noble tradition than these two groups would lead anyone to think.

The most recent and most colorful champion of such Democratic politics is the former New York Senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan. A quirky former professor and policy wonk, Moynihan spent his entire career lambasting both sides of the political aisle for what he saw as the excesses of their political ideology. In his many speeches, essays, and books Moynihan articulated exactly what makes the Democratic approach to limiting political power so unique from their conservative counterparts.

As Moynihan put it, the very word liberal comes from the Ancient Roman word for freedom. Thus liberals of all stripes seek to create the political order that best secures human liberty. For some, such freedom can only be preserved by a powerful state that regularly intervenes on the people’s behalf against large corporate powers. For others, the greatest threat to freedom will always be the unbridled power of the state and thus its authority needs to be checked at all costs.

In truth, Moynihan observed, any entity that consolidates power needs to have its authority restrained – whether it is a private company or the government. If one accepts Moynihan’s basic premise, it changes the entire approach to politics which can never be about empowering either government or completely sacrificing all state power to allow corporations to fill the gap. Instead, Moynihan argued that Democrats must turn their attention to empowering and sheltering those places where individuals can most fully express their freedom: local communities, clubs, churches, unions, families, schools, and so on.

This attitude towards politics gives small government Democrats two defining traits. First is a skepticism of concentrated power in all of its forms. Thus such Democrats do not wish to whittle the federal government down to nothing like their Republican counterparts, but nor do they trust the state implicitly the way many more progressive members of the party do. Second is an emphasis on localism as the chief aim of good government. Such a goal stands in stark contrast to the small government Republican whose raison d’etre is the free market.

These two twin principles make localist Democrats a more accurate moniker than small government Democrats and also create the basis for policy prescriptions unlike anything that is commonplace in contemporary politics. To briefly continue borrowing from the example of Moynihan, throughout his career he advocated for a massive overhaul of the American welfare system. He argued that the Great Society, for all its goodness, often empowered social workers and government bureaucrats instead of the impoverished individuals that welfare is meant to help. As such, he sought to build a new welfare system that simply funneled money towards local communities and families.

It is important to note that Moynihan is not the only Democrat to adopt this localist approach to government. Fred Harris, a former Senator from Oklahoma, advocated throughout his career for a “new populism” that dismantled the concentration of political power in Washington and the concentration of economic power in large corporations. As he would have framed it, not just a redistribution of wealth but also control over our own lives – restoring authority to everyday Americans and communities. Supreme Court Justice and liberal lion William O. Douglas took a similar line. Throughout his career, he asserted the rights of individuals from state interference and never as an attempt to limit local authority itself. Likewise, economics professor turned US Senator from Illinois Paul Douglass pushed pre-Moynihan for federal assistance to throw local communities as a way to empower voters and not just federal bureaucrats.

In general, the localist approach to politics by certain Democrats in the mid-twentieth century flows from a long -standing intellectual tradition skeptical of human nature and power more in particular. Men such as Reinhold Niebuhr, Lord Acton, and John Adams have long articulated the reasons why our politics should be structured in such a way that it prevents concentrations of power. Others such as Wendell Berry and Charles Taylor have followed this train of thought to its logical, localist, conclusion.

So if localist Democrats were once so influential, then what happened to them? I have already hinted at the reality that their existence has been obscured by recent partisan histories but their collapse is tied to something much more systemic and problematic. Like all political movements that reject extremes and exist somewhere in the middle of the political spectrum, localist Democrats lived in constant peril of being shoved aside by progressives and conservatives. Ultimately, this is exactly what happened.

Since the Industrial Revolution unleashed the problem of modern wealth, progressives of both parties have sought a way to undermine the power of the monopolistic corporations. In the end, most progressive politicians and thinkers came to believe, not unreasonably, that the only entity capable of truly standing up to such incredible wealth and influence was the state. This insight is almost certainly true and on its own does not undermine the tenets of localist Democrats. However, as time passed many of the progressives began to fall into the understandable but mistaken belief that the state is capable of fixing all problems. Thus, they stopped seeing government as a serious threat to human freedom and instead as the only entity capable of granting humans their liberty.

On the other side of the political spectrum, conservative Republicans’ long-standing ties with the business community started to develop into a general anxiety about the prominent role that the government now played in the economy. Again, such a concern is perhaps well founded and harmless enough on its own. However, as more extreme voices in the conservative movement – men such as William F. Buckley, Milton Friedman, and Ronald Reagan who for all their differences typified in various ways what would come to be the heart of mainstream American conservatism in the late twentieth century – began to dominate the Republican Party, healthy caution soon became reactionary resistance. As a result, the Republican Party’s view of political power became radically anti-government, which only bolstered the forces of the progressive left who served as a better partisan foil for the Republicans than the localist Democrats.

The general result of this has been to create two parties who have, overall, no desire to encourage the localism of figures such as Moynihan, Harris, and Douglass. Instead one party took to a ceaseless defense of the state and the other became the uninhibited champion of the free market. Localism was nowhere to be found.

Yet, in recent years this formula has started to fall apart. Donald Trump and the National Conservatives movement his election heralded have no clear desire to advocate for the free market and instead have worked assiduously to empower the national government to force conservative social and cultural positions upon the whole nation. In the face of such shrill statism, Progressive Democrats cry that this is now what the all powerful state is meant for ring hollow. Having created the immensely powerful national government themselves, their shock that it could be used by the other side seems mildly out of step with reality.

As such, a new window of opportunity is opening for Democrats who believe that the Trump administration’s use of the state must be challenged not with more statism, but with a revival of the local communities and institutions in which the people themselves rule. This is the hard task to which the modern day Blue Dog Democrats have dedicated themselves. So far congressional Blue Dogs are rising valiantly to challenge – supporting legislation that aims at a rural revival, boosts the political power of American labor, protects local control of land, and so on. In all of this, they join a noble tradition, one whose principles provide the best, perhaps the only, path for the republic’s continued prosperity.

Jeffery Tyler Syck is an assistant professor of political science and the founding director of the Center for Public Service at the University of Pikeville in his native Kentucky.

Illustration by Esther Pearl Watson. Original article by James Pogue.

The New York Times published a comprehensive opinion piece this morning on Marie Gluesenkamp Perez, Jared Golden, and the rising Blue Dog project. Rather than summarize the whole thing or add spin to the writing of author James Pogue, we wanted to highlight a few passages that stood out to us. Moments where the piece clearly articulates the reality gap in Congress, the limits of where things stand now in D.C., and why a different kind of American politics is taking shape.

Below are some of our favorite excerpts, quoted directly.

MGP on “living in the same reality” as voters

“She implored people in the room to show that they were ‘living in the same reality’ as regular people, and suggested that paying attention to the sense of helplessness or the anger caused by small issues like the proliferation of absurdly bright headlights offered a path to a more profound and potentially radical new style of Democratic politics.”

Jared Golden on what it will actually take to change the Democratic Party

“The hardest part for Democrats is that no new vision will be possible without a changeover in the professional political class guiding the party. ‘That’s the main hope,’ Mr. Golden told me. He sounded disillusioned when we talked, having seen his own idiosyncratic program of listening to Maine’s blueberry farmers and lobstermen swamped in a campaign that cost $58 million in 2024. He had little option but to run at least in part on the terms of the consultants he blames for making politics abstract.

‘I look at some of that and I just don’t even feel like it’s talking about me,’ he told me. ‘But this Blue Dog movement is a lot bigger than me, and what it will mean is drawing people who actually come from and care about these communities.’”

On what MGP’s politics are…and are not

“Her worldview is widely held in rural America but almost completely unrepresented in national politics — neither reactionary nor exactly liberal; skeptical of big business and big government alike.”

On ownership, repair, and the dignity of work

“We don’t want to be perpetual renters of disposable crap. We want things that last.”

And later, expanding that idea:

“The policies he (Federal Reserve Chairman Ben Bernanke) put in place during the Great Recession widened the difference between our material well-being and the kind of agency the Blue Dogs care about. Americans could now easily afford a new flat-screen TV, but they were losing the ability to buy a house and start a family, set up a bike repair shop, or purchase some land and step away from the rat race.”

On technocracy and its limits

“Spreadsheets can contain a part of truth. But never all of truth.”

And the broader diagnosis:

“It’s a system that no longer really functions today because the broad societal trust that once allowed data and experts to guide political choices has broken down.”

On the Blue Dogs as a movement, not a brand

“The Blue Dogs have been arguing that Democrats cannot win over rural or working-class voters simply by studying them; the party will have to elevate people who genuinely share their values and concerns — even if those values and concerns are an uncomfortable fit with those of the people guiding the party today.”

On Blue Dog Radio

“Together, they’ve tried to articulate a friendly and Americana-inflected cultural politics ‘for people who still believe in community, country and the common good,’ as the intro to one of the podcast episodes put it, coupled with an economic vision that is arguably more radical than programs offered by many leftists.”

Download the latest episode of our podcast here.

MGP on “obstacle fixation” and what actually persuades people

“You do not save democracy by running around, yelling about saving democracy. You do it by demonstrating that democracy and Democratic values deliver better quality of life for normal people.”

We recommend reading the full piece if you haven’t already. For us, it captures something important about where American politics actually is. And why a growing number of voters are looking for leaders who start from lived reality and actual connection to the places they represent.

The bipartisan Standardizing Permitting and Expediting Economic Development Act (SPEED Act), led by Rep. Jared Golden (ME-02) and endorsed by the Blue Dog Coalition, would modernize the National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA) to accelerate federal approval of energy development and other construction projects, while protecting environmental and community safeguards.

Why NEPA Reform is Necessary:

NEPA was designed to ensure federal agencies make informed decisions. However, the law has become a major source of delay and uncertainty for energy development and other construction projects. Consider the current state of energy project permitting:

• The average completion time for an Environmental Impact Statement under NEPA is 4.5 years;

• Outside groups routinely file NEPA lawsuits against projects of all kinds. Research from the Breakthrough Institute shows that over 70 percent of recent NEPA lawsuits were filed not by local communities or concerned individuals, but by national NGOs. These litigants lost more than 80 percent of the time, yet even unsuccessful lawsuits can add years of delay, driving up costs and jeopardizing projects entirely;

• Litigation against energy projects adds an average of 23 months, even if the government wins the case, and grows to 30 months when they lose;

• Certain projects have been delayed for decades. As a result, agencies spend as much as 90 percent of the time reviewing “litigation-proofing” environmental documents; and

• Both Presidents Trump and Biden have politicized the process, rescinding or altering permits after they’ve been approved. In January, President Trump issued an executive order pausing leasing and permitting for wind energy projects. In 2021, former President Biden issued an executive order revoking the Keystone XL pipeline permit; and

• NEPA’s burden falls primarily on low-carbon and clean energy projects, with 60% of NEPA EISs for clean energy and 24% for fossil fuels.

What the SPEED Act Actually Does:

The SPEED Act modernizes NEPA without weakening environmental or community safeguards. It does so by:

• Shortening permitting timelines and reducing the frequency of frivolous litigation;

• Simplifying NEPA analysis, easing the burden on agencies;

• Clarifying when NEPA is triggered, and defining a “Major Federal Action;”

• Establishing guardrails on judicial review, including a 150-day deadline for filing claims, a new standard of review, and the elimination of procedural moves that stop projects from moving forward; and

• Preventing the executive branch from revoking approved energy permits, providing permit certainty for all project types.

Setting the Record Straight:

The SPEED Act has been mischaracterized as weakening environmental protections, limiting public input, or favoring polluters. In reality, the legislation would codify the long-standing precedent that NEPA is a purely procedural statute, raise the bar for triggering review, substantively tackle endless NEPA litigation by establishing guardrails for who can sue, right-sizing remedies, and limiting the window to challenge final permits, and tackle one of the central bottlenecks slowing clean energy development.

The following separates fact from fiction and shows how the SPEED Act would strengthen and modernize NEPA to accelerate federal approval of energy and infrastructure projects, while maintaining environmental and community safeguards:

Claim: The SPEED Act fails to address the challenges holding back clean energy deployment and benefits polluting and expensive fossil fuel projects.

Truth: ​​The SPEED Act includes a bipartisan provision that prevents the executive branch from revoking approved energy permits, a tactic both Presidents Biden and Trump have used to block projects. In January, President Trump issued an executive order pausing leasing and permitting for wind energy projects. In 2021, former President Biden issued an executive order revoking the Keystone XL pipeline permit.

The data also undercuts the claim that NEPA reform favors fossil fuels. Clean energy projects are the most frequent targets of NEPA litigation. A Stanford-led study, NEPA Litigation Over Large Energy and Transport Infrastructure Projects, found that solar projects face the highest litigation rates, with nearly two-thirds facing a claimed NEPA violation. More broadly, approximately 60% of NEPA Environmental Impact Statements are for clean energy projects, compared with just 24% for fossil fuels. The Institute for Progress reached similar conclusions, finding that 62% of ongoing NEPA Environmental Impact Statements involve clean energy, while only 16% involve fossil fuel projects.

By reducing political interference and curbing litigation-driven delays, the SPEED Act tackles a central bottleneck slowing clean energy deployment, accelerating clean, affordable energy while maintaining consistent rules for all projects.

Claim: The SPEED Act reclassifies the National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA) as solely procedural, or box checking, in direct conflict with congressional intent that it deliver improved environmental outcomes and community engagement in design and completion of large projects.

Truth: The SPEED Act doesn’t reclassify NEPA; it codifies this long-standing precedent that NEPA is a purely procedural law and clarifies Congress’s original intent. NEPA does not require agencies to alter a course of action based on identified impacts. Instead, NEPA ensures agencies have the information they need to make informed decisions. Over three decades ago, the Supreme Court stated that “NEPA merely prohibits uninformed–rather than unwise–agency action. This year, the Supreme Court reaffirmed this precedent in Seven Counties, stating that NEPA “[a]s a purely procedural statute, NEPA ‘does not mandate particular results, but simply prescribes the necessary process’ for an agency’s environmental review of a project.”

Claim: The SPEED Act restricts what federal agencies can consider when evaluating the environmental and public health consequences of major proposed projects, including climate and environmental justice impacts, which would further advantage costly and dirty fossil fuel projects.

Truth: The SPEED Act limits review to direct, proximate effects of the project, those with a “reasonably close causal relationship.” It excludes effects that are speculative, remote, or tied to separate projects. This does not bar agencies from considering climate or environmental-justice impacts when they stem directly from the project. The bill simply codifies the Supreme Court’s Seven Counties ruling that NEPA does not require analysis of upstream or downstream impacts unrelated to the core action.

These reforms align with bipartisan expert consensus. A Bipartisan Policy Center report, Reforming Judicial Review for Clean Infrastructure: A Bipartisan Approach, concluded that “reducing standing ultimately limits parties not directly impacted by a project from filing lawsuits while preserving opportunities for litigation in cases involving potentially harmed communities.” Participants in the report’s roundtable noted that such changes would result in fewer frivolous lawsuits being filed against projects.

Crucially, NEPA’s current burdens fall most heavily on clean energy. Approximately 60% of NEPA Environmental Impact Statements are for clean energy projects, compared to just 24% for fossil fuels. By limiting speculative claims and restricting standing to parties with concrete impacts, the SPEED Act reduces excessive litigation and accelerates deployment of the very clean energy projects most frequently delayed today.

Claim: The SPEED Act limits public input and legal recourse by imposing narrow procedural requirements that make it much harder for impacted parties and communities to raise concerns or challenge flawed environmental reviews.

Truth: NEPA was designed to improve environmental decision-making, but in practice, many delays now result from procedural challenges that add time and cost without improving environmental outcomes. The SPEED Act preserves the ability of directly affected parties that commented during environmental reviews to challenge reviews, but prevents lawsuits from groups without concrete harm. It also shortens the statute of limitations to 150 days, requires lawsuits to wait until a final agency decision, and adopts remand-without-vacatur so minor deficiencies don’t halt entire projects. This streamlines judicial review without cutting impacted communities out.

Importantly, these changes reflect bipartisan, expert consensus. A joint Brookings Institution–American Enterprise Institute report on NEPA reform emphasized the need to rebalance judicial review to address procedural bottlenecks, excessive costs, and inequitable outcomes. The report endorsed reforms mirrored in the SPEED Act, including limiting standing to those who commented during environmental reviews, shortening the statute of limitations, and limiting judicial injunctions.

Similarly, the Institute for Progress concluded in A Cheat Sheet for NEPA Judicial Reform that NEPA litigation has become “an avenue for abuse and obstruction,” and recommended many of the same judicial review reforms included in the SPEED Act, including limiting standing to those who commented during environmental reviews and shortening the statute of limitations.

Claim: The SPEED Act severely Restricts Science and Integrity of Information - Section 2(b) adds language stating agencies are not required to undertake new scientific or technical research after receipt of an application for a proposed agency action.

Truth: The SPEED Act does not restrict science. It prevents NEPA reviews from becoming moving targets every time new research is published. Predictability and timeliness are essential for infrastructure, energy, and economic planning, yet some stakeholders exploit late-breaking studies to force supplemental reviews or trigger litigation, delaying or killing projects regardless of merit.

The SPEED Act ensures agencies rely on robust, high-quality science without mandating endless updates that stall decision-making. Agencies will continue to base reviews on peer-reviewed research, current environmental data, agency expertise, and applicant-provided analyses that meet federal standards. Agencies may still consider new research when it is relevant, but they are not compelled to restart or pause reviews for every newly released study.

Notably, a joint Brookings Institution and American Enterprise Institute report on NEPA reform recommended restricting the ability to raise new objections during litigation. The SPEED Act reflects this notion by prioritizing predictability and preventing strategic delays, without compromising scientific integrity.

The Bottom Line:

As Rep. Adam Gray stated in a recent op-ed, “Americans are losing faith in their government’s ability to take on big challenges and deliver real results, but it doesn’t have to be that way.” While NEPA is well-intentioned, there is bipartisan agreement that in practice the law has become a major source of delay and uncertainty for energy development and other construction projects in this country.

Rep. Jared Golden and Rep. Bruce Westerman’s SPEED Act is a pragmatic, bipartisan bill that aims to address these challenges by modernizing NEPA to accelerate federal approval of energy development and other construction projects, while protecting environmental and community safeguards.

Congress should pass the SPEED Act and get back in the business of taking on big challenges and delivering real results for the American people.

The line is so often repeated that it verges on being a cliché: America can’t build things anymore. Not broadband, not electric transmission lines, not even nuclear power plants. While red tape is not always the sole cause, it has become a common and significant contributor to our national gridlock.

Decades-old laws governing energy permitting and environmental protection, such as the National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA), Clean Water Act, and the National Historic Preservation Act, were no doubt crafted with noble intent. But today, they not only fail to truly protect the environment; even worse, they’ve become a potent mechanism to delay and kill development of all kinds.

Most permitting reform conversations focus on the energy sector – and NEPA receives the most attention of all, with good reason. The law was conceived as a kind of environmental speedbump, ensuring that developers and agencies “look before they leap.” But even NEPA was not intended to effectively mandate the multi-year approval process of today. The average completion timeline for an Environmental Impact Statement, the most onerous form of NEPA review, is now 4.5 years. Indeed, even NEPA’s legislative author, Sen. Henry “Scoop” Jackson, argued that agencies and courts had “vastly inflat[ed] the requirements of the Environmental Impact Statement” (though he argued the benefits of the law outweighed these costs, perhaps a debatable assertion in the late 20th century but certainly off target today).

The key variable driving NEPA delays isn’t necessarily agency delay, but the ability for outside groups to weaponize the law in service of predatory litigation against projects of all kinds. The statistics are sobering: litigation against energy projects adds an average of 23 months even if the government prevails, and 30 months if not. Specific cases are even more frustrating. The Cardinal-Hickory Transmission Line, critical for the operation of 25 GW of clean energy projects, was delayed 13 years after litigation by environmental nonprofits. And agencies spend as much as 90 percent of the review process “litigation-proofing” environmental documents.

Importantly, the current pipeline of energy projects is overwhelmingly low-carbon. This means that NEPA’s burden falls primarily on low-carbon and clean energy projects. Critics may argue that any new oil and gas infrastructure is unacceptable if there’s any hope of addressing climate change, and that the NEPA status quo provides a powerful tool to block new development – clean energy projects be damned. But even if we put aside the fact that hydraulic fracturing and the associated shale gas boom have been key drivers of domestic emission reductions in recent years, the reality is that in an urgent moment of rising electricity demand, geopolitical instability, and overall economic uncertainty, America cannot afford to bet against any fuel or technology.

Partisan talking points have muddied our current energy reality. The One Big Beautiful Bill Act (OBBBA)’s phaseout will slow, but certainly not halt deployment of renewables. Wood Mackenzie, an energy analysis and consulting firm, estimates that 10-year installations of solar and wind will drop just 17 percent and 20 percent in the wake of the OBBBA. Despite their sustained rhetorical and regulatory campaign against wind and solar, the president and his team should celebrate that renewable resources support a robust, internationally dominant American oil and gas sector. And Democrats must make policy not for the world that they believe should be but the world that exists – one where domestic emissions are dropping while oil and gas remain essential. A strategy based on innovation, rather than heavy-handed regulation, will drive the greatest societal benefit.

There are signs that leaders in both parties recognize the value of an all-of-the-above energy strategy. Despite pressure from environmental activists, New York Governor Kathy Hochul took the important step of green-lighting the Northeast Supply Enhancement (NESE) pipeline, which will heat roughly 2.3 million homes every winter. Texas, an oil and gas juggernaut, continues to lead the nation in deploying clean energy resources. But there’s more hard work to do: Democrats need to approve far more responsible oil and gas development, the Trump administration must abandon its attempts to restrict renewables, and lawmakers must pursue bipartisan, comprehensive energy permitting reform.

On permitting, Representatives Jared Golden (D-ME) and Bruce Westerman (R-AR) should be applauded for their leadership on their NEPA reform legislation, the Standardizing Permitting and Expediting Economic Development (SPEED) Act. The SPEED Act would codify the recent Supreme Court decision in Seven Counties that NEPA is a purely procedural statute, raise the bar for triggering review, and substantively tackle endless NEPA litigation – establishing guardrails for who can sue, right-sizing remedies, and limiting the window to challenge final permits.

Democrats have been defensibly skeptical of congressional permitting reform while the Trump administration impedes renewable projects. That’s why Reps. Golden and Westerman deserve credit for negotiating additional provisions into the SPEED Act that limit the executive branch’s ability to rescind or materially alter permits once rolled out – an important first step to address the kind of meddling that obstructed construction of the Revolution Wind project earlier this year and killed the Keystone XL pipeline during the last administration.

SPEED is an ambitious proposal, to be sure, and may require further fine-tuning as the congressional process unfolds. More elements will be necessary to craft a deal, including reforms to the State Water Quality Certification process and rules governing the buildout of electric transmission. But it is an ambitious, credible opening bid—and it’s one that could pass. With lawmakers like Golden and Westerman leading the way, and a growing bipartisan recognition that America must relearn how to build, the SPEED Act could help the United States do big things again.

For most people, workplace rights aren’t an abstract debate. They’re the difference between being treated fairly or being punished for speaking up. Between having a voice at work or being at the mercy of political infighting. And for hundreds of thousands of federal workers (many of them veterans), those rights were stripped away with a few strokes of the president’s sharpie.

In March 2025, a sweeping executive order attempted one of the largest acts of union-busting in modern American history. It removed collective bargaining rights from workers across the Departments of Defense, State, Veterans Affairs, Energy, Justice, and more. These employees already couldn’t strike or bargain for wages. Their rights were limited, practical, and targeted. Most of them focused on safety, working conditions, and due process. Even those narrow protections were wiped out.

This wasn’t policy. It was an overreach of power. When that happens, working people pay the price.

Rights Shouldn’t Swing With the Presidency

One of the core Blue Dog values is simple: the rules of the workplace shouldn’t change depending on who sits in the Oval Office. Federal workers keep the country running. In labs, embassies, ports, military facilities, and VA clinics. They deserve predictable, stable rules, not political interference.

That’s why the Protect America’s Workforce Act (PAWA) exists. That’s exactly why it matters.

And for Jared Golden, now serving his final term in Congress, this fight isn’t symbolic. It’s the definition of unfinished work. This is a last window to protect some of the very workers he’s spent his career representing.

Golden Put the House in Motion When Leadership Wouldn’t

For months, House leadership refused to give PAWA a vote. So Golden crossed the aisle, joined with Republican Rep. Brian Fitzpatrick, and used a rarely-deployed congressional instrument to force action: a discharge petition.

A discharge petition is a rarely-used mechanism that, with 218 signatures, rips control of a bill away from leadership and mandates that it be brought to the floor.

This is the procedural equivalent of saying:“Enough stalling. We’re voting.”

They needed 218 signatures (a majority of the House), including members willing to publicly break with leadership. They got them. Nearly every Democrat signed on, alongside Republicans who understand workplace fairness isn’t a partisan indulgence.

Those signatures triggered today’s moment. The Speaker could no longer bury the bill. The House passed PAWA 231-195, with the support of 20 Republicans.

It is worth stating plainly: Golden didn’t have to do this. He’s not running for reelection. There’s no political reward here. Only the responsibility he feels to leave the place he served working better for the people it represents.

A Legacy Built on Work, Not Words

Most politicians spend their final terms taking laps. Golden is spending his final term taking risks. Real ones that require coalition-building, patience, and political muscle.

PAWA isn’t a messaging bill. It’s not a headline cable-news bill. It’s a governing bill that affects real every day Americans. Pushing it forward is part of a broader legacy: doing unglamorous work that actually protects people when the cameras are off.

This is how Golden has always operated. It is a spirit of fairness over flash, workers over politics, and duty over convenience.

What Today’s Vote Was Really About

This wasn’t a debate about the future of organized labor. It wasn’t an attack on ideology.

Today’s vote was about:

• Whether a president, regardless of their party, can unilaterally silence workers.

• Whether federal employees, including thousands of veterans, are treated with dignity.

• Whether Congress or the Executive Branch sets the rules of employment in this country.

You don’t have to be pro-union or anti-union to see what’s at stake. You only have to believe that public servants deserve a voice. Especially when they can’t strike, can’t bargain for pay, and still continue to show up for the country every single day.

A Moment of Accountability in a Gridlocked Congress

In a year defined by the shutdown, performative fights, and broken processes, PAWA stands out as something rare: a bipartisan success to fix a real problem affecting real people.

Golden forced a vote. He built a coalition. He made Congress confront the question directly.

Do we protect basic workplace rights, or let political convenience decide?

The House chose to protect basic workplace rights in a resounding 231-195 vote, with the support of 20 Republicans. A clear bipartisan success.

Golden could have taken a step back in his final term, but unsurprisingly, he is choosing a different exit. One rooted in service, not spectacle. Whatever the vote tally is today, PAWA is already part of his legacy: evidence that Congress still works when someone decides it should, and that working people still matter to the people who represent them.

Rural working families don’t need more talk. They need the government to stop writing checks with empty promises that it refuses to cash.

From the Gulf of Maine to California’s Central Valley to the timber towns of Southwest Washington, politicians on both sides of the aisle keep promising to stand with rural America. But when the cameras turn off, those same communities are too often left holding the bill.

Nowhere is this betrayal clearer than in Washington State, where two overlapping failures have pushed timber communities to the brink. And while national leaders trade talking points, rural schools are closing, road crews are shrinking, and families are being asked to make do with less than ever.

This isn’t just policy failure. It’s a real world pay cut for kids, teachers, small landowners, millworkers, and the counties that keep our roads drivable and communities alive.

Big Promises, Broken Policies:

Politicians across the political spectrum love to talk a big game about standing with working families, rural communities, and America’s heritage industries. But when it comes time to govern, both Republican-led Washington, D.C. and Democratic-led state governments are making decisions that leave these communities behind. Federal and state leaders are imposing policies that make it impossible to make a living in natural resource economies.

In Washington State, two policy decisions, one made at the federal level and one made at the state level, show how politicians are leaving rural timber communities behind. In 2025, rural communities across Washington are facing a painful reality, with millions of dollars in funding meant to support schools and roads gone. The Secure Rural Schools program, a lifeline for counties reliant on federal timber revenue, expired at the end of 2023 after Congress failed to act. Compounding the issue, the Washington Forest Practices Board voted to impose wider and longer buffers along streams, cutting 200,000 acres of timberland out of production, taking away $175 million in tax revenue and causing losses estimated to cost $2.8 billion for landowners.

A Pattern of Broken Politics:

For rural communities surrounded by federal forest land, the math has never been fair. They cannot collect local taxes from activity on federal land, leaving them with a disproportionately small tax base and too few resources for schools, roads, and basic services. Congress first addressed this imbalance in 1908 by giving counties and school districts a share of the revenue from timber sales on national forests. But as timber harvests declined over the decades, the payments dwindled as well, squeezing rural budgets yet again. In 2000, Congress created the Secure Rural Schools and Community Self-Determination Act to stabilize funding by guaranteeing payments not tied to annual timber production.

SRS is especially critical for states and counties with large amounts of federal forest land. The more federal acreage a community has, the smaller its local tax base and the harder it is to fund essential services like schools, roads, and public safety. Consider Rep. Marie Gluesenkamp Perez’s home county of Skamania, Washington: roughly 80% of its land is part of the Gifford Pinchot National Forest, leaving few opportunities to generate local revenue. When federal timber receipts declined, the impact was immediate and severe. For communities like Skamania, SRS is the lifeline that keeps classrooms open, roads passable, and basic infrastructure functioning.

Since 2000, the program has provided $7 billion in payments to over 700 counties and 4,400 school districts across 40 states. It helped bridge the gap as logging revenue declined, ensuring that rural, working families had access to safe roads, good schools, and basic public services. Yet, at the end of 2023, despite broad bipartisan support, Congress failed to reauthorize the program. Rural counties were forced to fall back on the much smaller default timber revenue payments. A shortfall that, for many communities, has had severe and immediate consequences.

This isn’t just a story about Congress. Washington State itself is making it increasingly difficult for families to earn a living in the natural resources economy. The Washington Forest Practices Board recently voted 7-5 to impose wider and longer riparian buffers along streams, effectively taking 200,000 acres of timberland out of production. University of Washington research estimates that the new rule will reduce harvestable timber by $2.8 billion, putting additional strain on rural communities that already rely on the industry for their livelihoods.

While the policy is presented as environmental protection, the Environmental Protection Agency said the bigger buffers are not needed to meet the Clean Water Act requirements. Local politicians, Democrats and Republicans alike, questioned whether the board had thoroughly examined the social and economic consequences. Small forestland owners and rural communities bear the brunt, while large landholders can easily absorb the losses. Rep. Marie Gluesenkamp Perez put it bluntly, “Which landholders can afford not to harvest timber? The big ones. For a lot of Washingtonians this feels like Louis the Sun King telling farmers to build him a bigger golf course in a famine.” Ken Miller of the Washington Farm Forestry Association echoed the sentiment, calling it political, “It is 100% about saving trees, not science.”

Taken together, these federal and state decisions leave working-class families in rural Washington behind. These decisions leave the schools underfunded, infrastructure crumbling, and make it harder to make a living in the timber industry. These policies are a piece of the pattern we see across the country. Rural and working-class communities are repeatedly abandoned, even as they sustain the industries that power the nation.

The Human Cost of Political Decisions:

Local reporting from Washington State shows just how devastating the loss of Secure Rural Schools funding has been. Every county in the state defaulted this year to the drastically smaller timber revenue formula. The difference wasn’t marginal, it was catastrophic. Counties across the state saw seven-figure losses, all while still being responsible for hundreds of miles of rural roads and small school districts that can’t absorb sudden cuts. For families and county officials alike, these aren’t numbers on a spreadsheet. They’re school closures, canceled road repairs, and the slow hollowing-out of communities that have already survived too much.

In Skamania County, the funding loss totals $2.3 million. Stevenson-Carson School District has already laid off more than 20 staff members and closed a middle school. “Our students will have a very different year as they return in August. Gone are many staff members who made a difference in their lives,” said Ingrid L. Colvard, superintendent of the Stevenson-Carson School District, in a statement earlier this year. “Many of the resources that supported their achievement and wellbeing have been cut or greatly reduced.” In Lewis County, another rural district, payments dropped from $1.8 million to just $276,153. County officials warn of delayed and canceled road maintenance, fewer resources for schools, and communities left scrambling.

At a time when these communities and families are already feeling the stress of Congressional inaction, the Washington Forest Practices Board compounded the issues. With its decision to take 200,000 acres of timberland out of production, these communities are set to lose $175 million in tax revenue from this decision. That means more cuts in schools, more teachers let go, and more roads and services falling into disrepair.

The logging and sawmill workers who depend on this land for their income will be hurt. The landowners, who have spent generations in these forests are faced with impossible decisions, including closing up shop or firing longstanding employees. As Jacob Vail, who works for a forest products company, stated in a recent guest post in Cascadia Daily News, “Some land owners will inevitably find it’s more advantageous to develop their property rather than keep it as a working forest, which would be a major loss for the forest products industry and the environment.”

The question the Washington Forest Practices Board failed to grapple with is what happens when fewer people can make a living working in the woods. This decision isn’t just about lost tax revenue, it’s about lost livelihoods. Eliminating timberland means fewer jobs in the forest sector, less landowners able to sustain their operations, and less families able to stay rooted in the communities they’ve called home for generations.

In rural Washington, that has real consequences. People are forced to travel farther for work, spending more hours on the road and less with their families. It means missed tee-ball games or soccer practices, empty seats at school events, and less time investing in the fabric of their towns. Decisions like this accelerate the slow hollowing-out of rural communities.

A Fighter for Rural Timber Communities:

Rep. Marie Gluesenkamp Perez, a leader of the Blue Dog Coalition and a strong advocate for Washington’s rural, working families, has consistently fought to reauthorize the Secure Rural Schools program and give these communities a voice. Last year, she pressed House leadership to include reauthorization in must-pass legislation before the end of the year. In January, she urged action before schools and communities were further harmed. In February, she helped introduce the bipartisan Secure Rural Schools Reauthorization Act and held a press conference with Skamania County leaders to highlight the program’s critical importance. By June, the Senate had unanimously passed companion legislation, yet the House still stalled. In July, she sent another letter calling on House leadership to advance the bill, and last week, she worked with a bipartisan, bicameral group of lawmakers to push for reauthorization before the end of the year.

Thanks to the persistent efforts of Rep. Marie Gluesenkamp Perez and a bipartisan coalition in both the House and Senate, families across rural Washington and the country may finally receive the funding they deserve. This week, the House is expected to take up her bill to reauthorize the Secure Rural Schools program. It’s time for Congress to act and for policymakers to remember the people whose livelihoods depend on working lands. Passing this bipartisan legislation is not just a matter of funding, it is a commitment to supporting rural communities, preserving America’s heritage industries, and protecting the families who sustain them. Without action, the consequences will deepen with more lost jobs, more closed schools, further hollowing out of rural communities, and growing distrust in our political system.

While communities across rural Washington may soon see some reprieve with the reauthorization of the SRS program, they will have to wait longer to see what happens with the Washington Forest Practices Board’s buffer decision. Washington timberland owners are suing three state agencies to overturn the rule and keep the 200,000 acres of threatened timberland in production. The forest groups claim that the state-approved expansion of riparian buffers is economically, scientifically, and legally indefensible.

Washington’s timber towns are not asking for favors. They’re asking for the basic fairness promised to them over a century ago: a commitment to communities that steward the land, power the economy, and still show up for work when the other Washington doesn’t.

What’s happening right now isn’t an accident. It’s a pattern. Rural counties do their jobs. Rural schools do their jobs. Rural taxpayers do their jobs. And too often, the federal and state governments do not.

Most Americans know the currency-inspired idioms—“a penny for your thoughts,” “I’ll give you my two cents,” and, most famously, “time is money.” They’re so commonplace we rarely pause to ask what they’re actually saying. Embedded in everyday language is a worldview that turns thought, speech, and labor into units of value. Even our leisure is defined in opposition to obligations of work — “free time.” But time can only be “free,” if it is also owned and measured.

Who gets to own and measure time is one of the most inherently political questions, yet we’re trained not to think of it that way. Instead—as the idioms above suggest—time is framed as an individual responsibility to optimize. We are always looking for ways to “save,” “spend,” or “waste” time. But what happens if we return time to the realm of the political and see it not as a private resource to be managed, but as a structure we all live inside—one whose contours are shaped by power?

Time, as we conceive of it today, is a product of modernity—of the shift away from rural, agricultural life into dense urban living made possible by late-19th-century industrialization. Scientific and technological progress, especially machinery, had a revolutionary impact on American society.

Before railroads required standardized time zones in 1883, most towns in the United States kept their own local time based on the sun—“high noon” meaning the moment the sun appeared at its highest point in the sky. The introduction of time zones across North America signaled a changing, more connected economy shaped by industrialization.

In this new age of industrial manufacturing, workers were drawn to cities to work in factories—the original sites where time became political. In the mid-1800s, it was not uncommon for workers to labor twelve to fifteen hours a day. Female textile workers in the factory town of Lowell, Massachusetts, organized for a ten-hour workday, eventually prompting Congress to form a committee to consider regulating hours. The committee dismissed the issue as outside its scope, leaving it to the states. The women-led newspaper Voice of Industry accused the committee’s chair of being a “political organ of the corporations.”

This is the heart of the political battle over time: the corporate bosses who set hours and working conditions, and the workers who must submit to them in order to survive. Despite earlier attempts to regulate the length of the workday, it took a decades-long struggle to win the eight-hour day and the forty-hour week. Several major events made that victory possible: the 1886 “May Day” strike coordinated by workers and unions in Chicago; the 1916 push from railroad workers whose demands for an eight-hour day threatened to disrupt the wartime economy; and the broader fight to secure collective bargaining rights. It was Frances Perkins—the labor advocate and first female member of a presidential cabinet—who ultimately championed the Fair Labor Standards Act of 1938, making the 40-hour, five-day workweek the national standard that remains in place today.

Corbin Trent, who runs the Substack America’s Undoing has broken down exactly how much time it took the average worker in 1950 to afford the basics of everyday life. Here is what he found in comparison with life in 2023.

In 1950, median INDIVIDUAL income was $1,971. A median home cost $7,354. The nation spent about $83 per person for healthcare. A four-year college degree cost $852.

Do the math. 3.73 years of work to buy a house. One week of work for healthcare. Less than two months for a college degree.

In 2023, median personal income was $42,220. A median home costs $429,000. Healthcare runs $14,570 per person per year. A four-year degree costs nearly $40,000.

10.16 years of work to buy a house. Twelve weeks of work for healthcare. More than ten months for college.

Today, Americans have to work harder and longer just to afford basics, meanwhile many succumb to insurmountable debt in the modest pursuit of a middle class life. As it stands now, the average minimum-wage worker in the U.S. must work 116 hours per week (2.9 full-time jobs) to afford a two-bedroom rental. The average American carries $23,317 in non-mortgage debt, think credit cards, student loans, auto loans.

Broadly speaking, the mid-20th century U.S. political economy was shaped by a belief that the state had an active role to play in stabilizing markets, supporting wages, and helping ordinary people weather economic shocks. Beginning in the late 1970s, however, a new political consensus took hold—what we now call neoliberalism—which argued that market competition, not democratic institutions, should organize society. This shift weakened labor’s bargaining power and redefined economic insecurity as an individual problem rather than a political one.

Around the same time, Congress passed laws such as the Taft-Hartley Act, which systematically weakened the power of workers to form unions. Economists have drawn a connection between the gutting of unions and nearly forty years of wage stagnation. In 2023, just one in ten workers was a union member, compared to 35 percent directly after World War II.

The consumer-first economic model overall was a project of shrinking the public collective in favor of the individual consumer. Concepts around time became branded in the language of “work-life balance” or “self-care,” selling you the idea of rest rather than guaranteeing the material conditions for it. Time off—rather than an inherently political, collective achievement—was reframed as an individual project of optimization. For the wealthy, this meant gym memberships, private clubs, and lavish vacations. Everyone else was told, through a constant stream of advertising and cultural messaging, that this lifestyle was something to aspire to. If you couldn’t afford it, the implicit message was to simply work harder.

This internalized moralizing around time—combined with stagnant wages and reduced opportunities for collective bargaining—has produced citizens who feel guilty and ashamed for not achieving more. Worse, it erodes the solidarity needed to rebuild strong and effective worker movements. Instead of seeing one another as members of an exploited workforce, people increasingly see others as competitors in a zero-sum race for scarce opportunity.

The rising “gig economy” only reinforces the myth that we can all be entrepreneurs. Apps like Uber and DoorDash promise workers the illusion of reclaiming their time. They tell you that you set your own hours, you control your schedule, and you can work as much or as little as you want.

But it’s an open secret—one so blatant that DoorDash admits it on their own website—that nearly half of their “dashers” already have full-time jobs. In a strange bit of corporate self-mythologizing, DoorDash even frames this precarious hustle as fulfilling “critical need(s) in communities across the country.” They acknowledge that “more people are turning to secondary sources of income to make ends meet and improve their quality of life.”

What Doordash won’t admit is that it’s part of an exploitative corporate structure that keeps workers in a constant state of precarity, which weakens communities. If a parent is working full time and needs to drive for a delivery app on the weekends to pay the bills, they cannot enjoy time with their children. If a senior is relying on Uber to supplement a meager fixed income, they may miss church on Sunday. That’s time stolen, not returned.

Time under such political arrangements becomes a barrier to the most basic democratic and civic institutions. The early 20th century labor movement succeeded because it viewed wages and time off as collective struggles, not personal problems. Workers are still exploited today—only now we’re told to interpret that exploitation as an individual failure to “hustle.”

The labor movement understood something we’ve forgotten: that control over time is control over life and it is within our collective power to change it. Today, corporate bosses are counting on us to mistake exhaustion for personal failure and to embrace hustle culture as virtuous. We ought to see this for what it is, a tactic to exert and maintain control.

Reframing time as political returns agency to ordinary people. It reminds us that the long hours, the debt, the precarity, and the worry are not natural conditions—they are choices made by those in power.

The first step toward a politics that rebuilds agency is simple: recognizing that our time belongs in the realm of politics. It belongs to us and only together, as a collective, can we seek to reclaim it.