Sometime during the 2024 presidential campaign, I heard Kamala Harris say, “We like hard work. Hard work is good work. Hard work is joyful work.”
She meant to celebrate the dignity of labor. She was trying to inspire. And she’s not wrong. But at that moment, I knew the message wouldn’t land, especially not with people who’d spent their entire lives grinding to survive.
Hard work isn’t an inspiring platform.
Why the Message Failed
Telling people, especially in historically marginalized communities, that they need to do even more hard work, after a lifetime of effort, doesn’t inspire. It deflates.
People don’t mind working hard. But the idea that they must work harder to maintain fundamental rights, while others promise ease, is demoralizing.
Trump preached prosperity like a crooked televangelist promising comfort, deliverance, and revenge. “You won’t have to fight anymore,” he whispered, “because I’ll make life easy.” No Congress. No compromise. Just him.
And Trump’s softball pitch landed for many Americans looking for a break because life is hard for everyone now.
- For people experiencing poverty.
- For communities that have struggled for centuries.
- For people in heteronormative marriages trying to manage a budget and keep their kids safe.
- For Christians who’ve only been shown a narrow path to salvation and privately wonder if it still includes them.
- Even for tubby, middle-aged white guys who can’t afford to golf as often.
Nobody has it easy anymore unless you’re in the three-comma club. And if your commas depend on federal contracts, maybe not even then.
When I heard what I thought was a losing message in “hard work is good work,” I chose not to sulk. I believed in and campaigned hard for Harris and Walz, asked colleagues for money, and attended rallies. I have no regrets.
But it’s fitting that one of the last lines in her concession speech was this:
“Hard work is good work. Hard work can be joyful work. And the fight for our country is always worth it.”
Again, she’s not wrong. But we lost the election. And I keep coming back to this question: How do Democrats speak the language of success and prosperity more like Republicans without demanding more sacrifice from people of all backgrounds already hanging by a thread?
Maybe we shouldn’t be so afraid to tap into the American dream for prosperity (and to be wealthy and successful).
What Is Prosperity Politics?
“Prosperity politics” sounds good out loud. Who doesn’t want to be a little rich? But it’s never neutral. It changes meaning depending on who’s saying it and who’s being left out. On the Right, it’s tied to conservative and neoliberal policies:
- Low taxes
- Deregulation
- Free-market capitalism
- Trickle-down economics
From Reagan to Trump, the promise is simple: wealth will trickle down if businesses thrive. It rarely does.
On the Left, Democrats have embraced a progressive version rooted in:
- Public investment (education, infrastructure, green energy)
- Stronger labor protections
- Higher wages and union growth
Think FDR’s New Deal or Biden’s Investing in America. But Democrats often avoid the word prosperity, choosing economic justice, equity, or inclusive growth instead. And that’s not rousing. That sounds like a 20th-century problem that should’ve been fixed by Democrats already.
There have been bipartisan moments, like the post-WWII era, when both parties believed in using government to build a middle class. The GI Bill, infrastructure, and suburban development. Even Clinton’s 1990s market optimism (NAFTA, tech expansion, welfare reform) imagined a version of shared prosperity, flawed but focused. But here’s the truth: Prosperity politics has often been a cover.
The Dark Side of Prosperity
The concept of prosperity has been used to protect concentrated wealth and preserve elite power, especially post-Citizens United. Groups like Americans for Prosperity, backed by the Koch network, push deregulation and “economic freedom” while dismantling labor protections, climate action, and voting rights.
It’s also been a tool of authoritarianism. In the 1930s, figures like Henry Ford and Charles Lindbergh tied prosperity to white nationalism and anti-communism. Today, politicians claim “real Americans” deserve prosperity while casting immigrants, protestors, and queer communities as threats.
And it’s always been racially coded.
White families landed in the suburbs and received GI Bill benefits after WWII. Black families were shut out. Reagan’s “welfare queen” myth reframed public aid as theft. Today’s calls for “taxpayer fairness” or praise for “job creators” still quietly (or overtly) suggest BIPOC communities should be grateful to work.
So, while prosperity politics sounds aspirational, it’s often exclusionary. It reinforces who gets ahead and who gets told to work harder. And it rarely favors the hard-working communities from the cotton and tobacco fields of central North Carolina to the vast, dry towns scattered across Nevada. It overlooks them entirely.
A New Path: Accountability and Acceleration
We need a new framework that isn’t “rich daddy’s coming to save you,” “you need to work harder,” and “the government will fix everything.” I call it the politics of individual accountability and acceleration.
In this model in my brain, people are responsible for their choices, habits, and outcomes, but are also supported by high-functioning systems that lift them faster when they rise and catch them when they fall. It’s not bootstrapping, it’s not socialism, it’s yes/and.
- Yes to personal effort.
- Yes to universal healthcare that keeps people whole, not barely alive.
- Yes to education that fosters curiosity, not just dogmatic compliance.
- Yes to public services that work with urgency and precision.
- Yes to policies that remove friction and uphold dignity.
- Yes to rethinking everything—from incentives to currency to universal basic income—to create a real floor alongside the drive to break through ceilings.
Because individual accountability without systems of excellence is a trap, it’s hustle culture in disguise. And when laid across systemic racism, sexism, and economic exclusion, it becomes cruelty masked as virtue.
What I (Really) Believe
I believe in individual accountability. People should be responsible for their habits, efforts, and outcomes. But I also believe in systems of excellence, which are smart, effective institutions that help people get ahead when they do the work. It’s about building a country where you don’t have to work hard when the government works hard for you.
As it should. Because you pay taxes.
It’s about raising expectations for everyone, with an extra push for those ready to run faster. We can stop scapegoating systems and stop worshipping saviors.
The future is accountability and dignity without making a choice.
Democrats who will win in 2026 (and beyond) will choose three core issues (healthcare, reproductive justice, and gun reform) where Americans agree. They will set out to improve excellence and touch every life. They will speak in a voice that blends the urgency of Bernie and AOC with the clarity of Jim Clyburn and the moral gravity of Raphael Warnock.
I’m paying close attention to Pete Buttigieg, especially with his background at McKinsey. Whoever emerges as the face (or faces) of this pragmatic movement will focus on individual responsibility and accelerating the American dream without adding more work to our plates (or texting us for another donation).
That’s how we move forward. Not just to win, but to be worth winning.