The Party of Good Intentions Isn’t Good Enough

The conversation we’ve been needing to have. Why Democrats keep losing trust and what we need to say (and do) differently.

If We’re Being Honest (And You Know, We Will)

Today, our interview on RadioWest with Doug Fabrizio airs as part of a two-part series on the future of the Utah Democratic Party. Last week’s episode featured Robert Gehrke, new Democratic Party Chair Brian King, and a preview of our conversation. This week, we pick up the thread with a view from the field: what it’s actually going to take to rebuild trust, connect with voters, and turn things around.

You can listen on RadioWest’s website, on Spotify, or Apple Podcasts.

Like many others, since the 2024 election, we’ve been thinking a lot (maybe too much) about the bigger picture. Not just how the party runs, but why so many people have stopped listening. Why trust feels broken. Why even the folks who show up for us aren’t sure we’re really showing up for them.

And to be totally honest, that includes us too. We’re die-hard Democrats, no question. But part of loving something is working to fix it when it’s not working. We’re not here to defend the brand, we’re here to rebuild the relationship.

We said a lot on RadioWest but we wanted to break it down even further here. All of the things we’ve been wrestling with, the clarity we’ve come to, and the path we still believe is possible.

Trust Is Gone and It’s Our Fault

Let’s start with the obvious: people don’t trust political parties anymore. Or politicians. And honestly, fair enough.

In CNN’s latest poll, more than 4 in 10 Americans say neither party has strong leaders, neither can get things done, and neither reflects their vision for the country. A record-high 58% say they want the government to do more to solve problems, but very few believe either party is up to the task.

While Republicans have certainly earned their share of the blame, Democrats aren’t off the hook either. In fact, the skepticism is cutting especially deep on our side. Just 16% of Americans say the Democratic Party has strong leaders. Only 19% say we’re the party that can get things done.

It’s a weird contradiction: partisan identity is stronger than ever. People are fighting online, sorting their social circles, tuning in to their side’s media, and yet, fewer than ever believe their own party can actually do anything. People have picked a team, but they don’t trust the coach, the playbook, or the chances of winning.

Because for years, both parties have overpromised and underdelivered. The GOP responds to dysfunction by doubling down on culture war chaos. Democrats have talked a big game about values, but too often failed to follow through with concrete plans or action. So now, voters are still wearing the jersey, but they’re not cheering from the sidelines anymore. They’re watching with their arms crossed, waiting to see if anyone on the field remembers how to play and what embarrassing misstep will happen next.

That’s where the real danger lies. Not in the people shouting the loudest, but in the ones who’ve quietly tuned out. There’s a huge chunk of voters stuck in the middle, not because they’re confused, but because they’re exhausted. They’re skeptical. And they’ve been let down too many times to fall for the same lines again. They’ve seen promises turn into press conferences. Movements turned into merch. They’re not asking for perfection. They’re asking for something to believe in. And right now, they're not getting it from either side.

This isn’t just about Utah. It isn’t just about the 2024 election. It’s not just a bad news cycle or one disappointing candidate. It’s a bigger problem, one that goes to the heart of how we show up, what we offer, and whether we actually mean what we say.

We’re heading into an election where the stakes couldn’t be higher. Reclaiming the House in 2026 isn’t about Democrats feeling good or getting a win; it’s about blocking truly terrifying policies that are actively harming people every single day. But here’s the tough love: we can’t expect voters to swing our way just because Republicans are worse. That’s not a strategy. That’s a cop-out. And it’s how we end up with campaigns built on fear instead of vision.

You can’t ask people to fight for something they don’t believe is fighting for them. And right now, a lot of people aren’t sure we are.

We Got Too Comfortable

Somewhere along the way, Democrats started running campaigns like we already had the moral high ground and forgot we still had to earn people’s trust.

Part of earning trust isn’t about better speeches or better policy platforms. It’s about building real infrastructure: staff, organizers, resources, investment, especially in down-ballot races. We can't keep asking voters to believe in a party that doesn’t even look like it believes in itself.

But even more than that, we’ve become too comfortable pointing out what’s wrong with Republicans and not nearly uncomfortable enough asking whether we’re actually offering something better. We talk a lot about saving democracy, but rarely ask whether our version of it feels worth saving to the people we’re trying to reach.

It’s not that we don’t care. It’s that we’ve let ourselves believe caring is enough.

We tell ourselves that “fighting for values” is the same as delivering material change. We lean too hard on macroeconomic stats and leave people feeling gaslit about their lived experience. We’ve built entire campaigns on “decency,” “stability,” and “returning to normal” (as if normal ever worked for most people).

And when voters don’t buy it, we blame them. We say they’re misinformed. We say they’re voting against their interests. We double down on the belief that if they just listened harder, or read more, or cared as much as we do, they'd come around.

And it’s not any of that. People are paying attention. They’re just not hearing themselves in what we’re saying.

Complacency doesn’t always look lazy. Sometimes it looks like competence without conviction. Sometimes it looks like polished messaging with no plan behind it. Sometimes it looks like believing that being “not them” is enough to keep people showing up.

It’s not.

The Divide That Actually Decides Elections

Let’s be clear: the most important political divide in this country isn’t left vs. right. It’s not Democrats vs. Republicans. It’s who has power and who doesn’t. Who’s got savings in the bank and who’s counting quarters for gas. Who owns the apartment complex, and who can’t make rent.

For a long time, Democrats understood that. We were the party of the New Deal, the Great Society, and the labor movement. We made big promises and for a while, we delivered. Social Security. Medicare. Unions that built the middle class. Civil rights protections written into law.

We didn’t build coalitions by splitting the electorate into marketing segments. We named a shared struggle and called people into it. We actually fought for the little guy, and fought to win.

But over time, we drifted. We didn’t just lose working-class voters, we lost the muscle memory of how to talk to them. We traded populism for polish. Clarity for caution. Somewhere between triangulation and technocracy, we stopped sounding like a movement and started sounding like an HR department. Instead of speaking from the heart, we run every word through donor preferences, polling memos, and consultant checklists. We test messages until they’re toothless. We obsess over saying the right thing and end up sounding like we don’t believe anything at all.

The result is that voters don’t think we’re lying. They just think we’re fake.

We use words like “justice-impacted individuals” when we mean incarceration. “Equitable community outcomes” when people just want a fair shot. “Trauma-informed frameworks” when they’re asking if their kid can actually get help. And “substance use disorder” when they’re talking about addiction.

But what people are really asking is: Can I afford to take my kid to the doctor? Is my job secure? Can my family survive here?

It’s not about dumbing it down. It’s about telling the truth in a way that sounds like you mean it.

And that truth – the real one, rooted in class and lived experience – is where we’ve lost our footing. Because while we were focus-grouping the perfect slogan, Republicans threw on a Carhartt jacket, hit a factory floor, and claimed to be the party of the working class.

They haven’t delivered a damn thing for working people. But they’ve mastered the performance of class politics while we’ve all but abandoned the substance.

The irony is that voters don’t want pandering. They want proof. They want someone who knows what it means to live on a budget. To fight with your insurance company. To work full-time and still not make ends meet.

When we talk about rent, wages, debt, and cost of living, not in abstract policy terms, but in real-life language, we build coalitions that actually hold. Because those issues cut across race, region, and party line. They’re the common thread.

But too often, we’re still treating those issues like a backdrop to “big picture” strategy. And let’s be honest: that strategy is shaped more by donor-class comfort than working-class urgency.

We don’t need everyone to agree with us. But we do need them to believe that we believe what we’re saying.

One thing we said on RadioWest, if a candidate is changing what they actually believe, people can tell. Voters don’t need perfectly packaged soundbites. They need to hear the truth. That means prioritizing people over polish. Showing up with urgency, not just empathy. And building campaigns around what voters actually need, not what a slide deck says will “move the middle.”

Because this isn’t about finding better slogans or nicer ways to say the same thing. It’s about finally being honest about who’s been left behind. It’s about class consciousness. Class consciousness isn’t some outdated socialist buzzword; it’s simply recognizing that most of what divides us comes down to who has power, who controls wealth, who gets a seat at the table, and who gets to make the rules. And it’s how we finally show up for the people we’ve spent years claiming to stand with, but too often are left with nothing more than campaign speeches and Instagram statements.

And in Utah specifically, this isn’t just about class. It’s about monopoly. When one party controls everything for too long, they stop listening. They stop solving problems. That’s what Utah’s GOP supermajority has become: complacent, corrupt, and more interested in consolidating power than actually representing people. Rebuilding trust means giving voters a real choice again and restoring competition to a system that’s been rigged for decades.

Our Message to Consultants, Candidates, and Strategists

We will admit: we’ve been part of this too.

As consultants, we’ve coached candidates to stay “on message.” We’ve pushed for tested language. We’ve softened edges, avoided risk, and fallen into the trap of thinking that sounding safe was the same as sounding persuasive.

But here’s what we’ve learned: playing it safe is how you lose. Not just elections but trust, momentum, and meaning.

We don’t need more perfect soundbites. We need campaigns that are grounded, gutsy, and unafraid to tell people the truth even when it’s messy, even when it doesn’t poll well, even when it turns some folks off. It doesn’t mean moderating our values to make everyone comfortable. It means saying what we believe – clearly, unapologetically – and trusting voters to decide where they stand.

When you speak clearly about what you believe, two things happen: people know where you stand, and the right people start to show up.

So, here is our set of recommendations for better Democratic campaigns:

• Stop chasing imaginary voters. That perfect swing voter: progressive enough to care, moderate enough to flip, informed enough to agree, but not too mad about the times we’ve let them down? They don’t exist. Chasing them has distracted us from the people who are already here, ready to be heard.

• Speak clearly, with a vision. Not just “we care about values,” but: here’s what we believe, here’s what we’ll fight for, and here’s how it’ll actually help you. Let’s stop telling voters what they should care about and speak to what voters tell us they actually care about.

• Talk like real people. That means talking about what things cost, not just how the “economy is doing.” Rent. Groceries. Childcare. Wages. Survival. If we can’t say those words plainly, we shouldn’t be running.

• Talk to whole people, not demographics. Not every Latino voter is voting on immigration. Not every queer person cares about rainbow merch in June. People are complex, and tired of being flattened into a slogan.

• Reclaim common values. Family. Faith. Freedom. These aren’t right-wing words. They’re ours too. But we’ve been too scared to say them, and we’ve let the right twist them into something cruel. It's time to take them back and back them up with real plans.

• Listen before they pitch. No more writing policy “for” communities you’ve never talked to. Pull up a chair. Ask questions. Actually listen.

• Take risks. You don’t win back disillusioned voters by trying not to offend them. You do it by being honest, even if it’s messy. Especially if it’s messy.

Let’s build campaigns that sound like someone’s life depends on them. Because, frankly, they do.

But there’s another problem we have to talk about. It’s not just consultants. It’s not just candidates. It’s all of us.

Stop Fighting Each Other and Start Fighting to Win

Let’s have a family meeting. Because if we’re being honest, Democrats are exhausting. And more of you know it than are willing to admit it.

We are so good at punching each other in the face while Republicans quietly consolidate power. We obsess over language purity, chase endless internal tests of who’s “progressive enough,” and exile anyone who doesn’t hit every mark perfectly – even if they’re trying to do the right thing – while the GOP steamrolls ahead with a coalition that ranges from business-class moderates to full-blown conspiracy theorists. They don't like each other. They don't agree on everything. But they still vote together. Because they want to win.

Meanwhile, we’re stuck in endless debates about whether someone’s support for healthcare reform is good enough, whether they use that month’s exact right buzzword, or whether it's safe to even share a stage with a moderate.

Here’s a hard truth:
We do not have the luxury of running 50 different purity tests when we haven't even built a functioning coalition yet. The Republican supermajority doesn’t care how perfectly worded our press releases are. They care that they hold the gavel.

You want to win in Utah? You want to actually flip seats, pass laws, and actually help people? That means running candidates who fit their district, not your personal ideological wishlist. It means building coalitions that welcome disaffected Republicans, independents, and non-voters, not making people feel like they need to pass an exam before they’re allowed to join the fight.

We are not going to agree on everything. And that’s fine. Because we don’t need everyone to be a perfect progressive. We need a majority.

But let’s be clear: this isn’t about watering down what we believe or moderating ourselves (you know, we are as progressive as they come). It’s about fighting for the things that actually change people’s lives and being willing to build the kind of coalition it takes to win that fight.

If we keep turning every campaign into a debate club, we’ll keep losing. And losing. Until there’s nothing left to debate.

The goal isn’t to feel the most correct. The goal is to win.

And then use that power to actually help people. That’s the real test. And it’s the only one that matters.

Where We Go From Here

This isn’t the end of the conversation. It’s the start of a much more honest one.

We didn’t come back to Utah because it was easy. We came back because this is home, and because we believe Utah deserves campaigns that are built to win, not just survive. When we realized there literally weren’t enough chairs for our first campaign training, we didn’t complain; we went on Facebook Marketplace and solved the problem. That mindset – figure it out, build it from scratch, bring people into the room – is exactly how we think about rebuilding Democratic trust here and now.

If this piece made you nod, or wince, or text a friend, we’re talking to you.

We’re building something here in Utah that’s bigger than one election. It’s about changing the culture of politics from the ground up. Some people call us naive for believing Utah can change. We call it strategy. Because when people believe that change is possible, they show up. And when they show up, everything shifts. Hope isn’t wishful thinking, it’s how you build power.

If you want in, here’s how: Leave a comment. Share this with someone who needs to read it. Or support our work directly:

We’re doing this together. And we’re just getting started.