The Democratic Party of old was like a farmers’ market: a place where a bunch of people with wildly different interests came together in a spirit of cautious cooperation. Union workers, environmentalists, feminists, professors, animal rights activists, civil rights leaders, and Hollywood glitterati could all coexist under one big political tent. It was almost like if you majored in progressivism, you had to minor in one of its sub-ideologies.
These disparate Democrats didn’t necessarily like one another, but they tolerated the strangeness of the coalition because it won elections. Everyone knew that the path to power meant compromise, so you ignored some of the more pungent aromas at the produce stands next to yours.
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