In my previous essay, Zohran and the Interregnum, we saw how the contentious battle for New York's mayoral seat was the front line in a deeper, nationwide struggle between the 'people' and ‘the oligarchy.' This volatile political landscape, the Gramscian interregnum, has left socialists with a pressing question: How do we build the independent political party the moment demands? Fed up with a Democratic Party that fails to offer a meaningful alternative and has over and over pledged its fealty to the oligarchy over the people, many socialists argue for a break. But what does a new party, one that serves the working people, look like, and how does it emerge?

To answer this, we must first abandon the narrow American conception of a "political party" that conceives the party as a formal organization or a ballot line come Election Day.  In his notes from The Modern Prince, Antonio Gramsci offers a more robust articulation of the role of the political party: the party is not a particular organization but a social organism or "the Prince" itself—a "collective will" that gives form and coherence to a historical movement of people. For Gramsci, a party is the living, breathing crystallization of social practice. Its power doesn't come from its formal structure or the actions of its leaders, but from the mass social practice that is its real heart.

This means that a party's identity is not a static list of policies but is forged by the complex web of education, culture, media, and social conflict that shapes its members. It is a political subject shaped by history. In this sense, the Democratic Party is more than just Joe Biden; it is also the diffuse network of institutions that shape its collective identity—from MSNBC and Pod Save America to a variety of cultural and social touchstones like Sesame Street and The West Wing. This ethico-political role is what distinguishes the social organism that is the political party from merely a formal, activist organization.

This brings us to the Democratic Socialists of America (DSA) and its role in Zohran Mamdani’s historic mayoral campaign. It is undeniable that DSA played an instrumental role in his victory, providing the critical ground game primarily through its canvassing efforts. Furthermore, Zohran's origins as a rank-and-file activist of NYC DSA and his tenure as a “cadre" for the organization as a New York State Assemblyman indicate that the campaign would not have happened at all without the DSA.  For many socialists, the DSA is a proto-party, the foundation for an independent, socialist political party that represents the people. Yet, the DSA's model in electoral politics remains largely instrumental and logistical, whereas a political party’s role, as Gramsci describes, is ethico-political.

So what does this ethico-political role look like in practice? We saw its emergence in the unexpected trajectory of Zohran’s mayoral campaign.  DSA initially green lighted and endorsed Zohran’s mayoral campaign with the understanding that it would be an "agitational" effort—a platform to promote the organization's message, with winning a secondary objective at best. But something else happened. It evolved into a phenomenon that not only secured a mass social base but ultimately won.  Zohran’s campaign represents a rupture with the instrumental nature of DSA's political activity. Through his messaging, the campaign’s "vibe," and his personal charisma, Zohran transcended the "socialist-as-activist" paradigm and became the "Modern Prince." He did not simply convey a socialist platform; he  embodied a collective will, tapping into the latent anti-Trump, anti-oligarchy energy of the city's Democratic base and transforming it into a political force.

The DSA's electoral strategy, driven by its activist worldview, has often operated on an instrumentalist or "cadre" model. In this framework, the politician is seen as a technical extension of the organization. Their purpose is to serve as a disciplined vessel for the organization's platform, which is often developed through internal processes and debates. The success of a campaign is measured not just by votes, but by its ability to raise awareness, recruit members, and promote the organization's specific demands—even those that lack broader public support. This model prioritizes ideological coherence and internal unity, with a focus on education and (less successfully, in my opinion) persuasion.

This is the context for the media’s questioning of Zohran and the subsequent internal critique from some DSA members. When asked by the media about seemingly “extreme” points on the DSA platform—such as the abolition of misdemeanors—Zohran's response was not to double down but to assert his own platform as the singular voice of the campaign. This led to accusations of Zohran "abandoning" the DSA or "selling out," and even gave rise to calls from the more “left” faction of DSA for a more rigid unity between the organization and its elected members like Zohran, some going as far as to call for "democratic centralism" to enforce a unified "party line.”

This moment does signal Zohran breaking with the DSA, but it is not a break with DSA’s membership, nor its ethos or vision for socialism—but a break with DSA’s activistic conception of politics and conception of itself.  The debate over democratic centralism and cadre candidates is a distraction from the fundamental political question at hand: what is the most effective way to build power? As P.K. Gandakin recently articulated, this is the very question Zohran’s campaign answered:

Zohran clearly isn’t a ‘cadre candidate’ nor did he win [because] he was a ‘cadre candidate.’ A healthy political party in the USA treats the platform & the apparatus as secondary to actual political power—the support of millions of NYers, a rejection of Trump and liberal do-nothingism.

Zohran’s campaign represents a break with the activist paradigm of socialist politics. Rather than an end in itself, the political program is a weapon for gaining power. The goal is not to educate the public on the organization’s ideology, but to mobilize millions by giving voice to their latent frustrations and aspirations. A primary reason Zohran’s campaign succeeded where the traditional activist campaign often falls short is because of this. It was effective because it did not treat the public as an audience to be lectured to, but as a potential political subject to be activated. He tapped into the emotional and affective dimensions of politics, using messaging and "vibes" to forge a collective identity that was larger than any single organization. His campaign undermines the idea that promoting the organization and its platform should be the primary means of political work. Instead, it showed that a healthy political party in the U.S. treats these things as secondary to the actual pursuit of political power.

With this gap between Zohran and the activist model, we can observe a peculiar blind spot within the left itself. Socialists are often adept at dissecting the political success of the right. Rather than arguing about the rational and moral merits of conservative theory—the writings of Hayek, for instance, or the intricacies of supply-side economics—the left correctly identifies how the right’s power is built: a vast and coordinated array of streamers, influencers, and politicians (or what Gramsci referred to as organic intellectuals) who tap into the reactionary energy and feelings of resentment within the GOP base. This is a politics of cultural warfare and affective mobilization, not one of policy debate. We understand that figures like Tucker Carlson or Andrew Tate aren't winning arguments; they are shaping a collective identity and harnessing wide feelings into a political force.

This affective mobilization extends beyond explicitly political commentary. Many of these figures are ostensibly "non-political," focusing on content about video games or self-help for adolescent men. However, they are building a sense of community and shared identity among their audience, subtly but effectively placing them into a nascent political bloc. The trust they cultivate and the "us vs. them" dynamic they create around cultural issues—from debates about "woke culture" in gaming to perceived threats to masculinity—serves as a powerful foundation. This groundwork makes their audience receptive to explicitly political messaging later, or makes the political seem like a natural extension of the "non-political" content. The right's success lies in its ability to cultivate these communities and turn their cultural grievances into political capital.  

And yet, despite this clear diagnosis of the right’s strategy, the left somehow fails to recognize this very same dynamic within its own movements. When figures like Bernie Sanders or Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez ignite popular imagination, we often attribute their success to the appeal of their policies, whether it be a $15 minimum wage or Medicare for All. This rationalist tendency is the very intellectual habit that defines the activist, instrumental model of politics that DSA represents.  It wants to believe that political success is a victory of truth over falsehood, of good over bad ideas, and of doing the hard work of political campaigns. But this thinking overlooks the essence of both the right and Zohran's campaign: politics is not a classroom. Mass movements are built not on syllogisms, but on shared struggle, a common enemy, and a powerful sense of collective identity. The "vibe," the charisma, and the ability to articulate a new "common sense" are not auxiliary; they are the engine of political power.

While it’s too soon to say how Zohran will govern as mayor, and his administration will undoubtedly be subject to critique from socialists,  Zohran’s strategic choices in this particular case should not be mistaken for a retreat from socialist principles or a move toward ideological moderation to appeal to the Democratic establishment. In fact, his willingness to state on CNN that he holds many critiques of capitalism, or his declaration that he would enforce the ICC’s ruling on a figure like Netanyahu if he came to New York, demonstrates the contrary.  Rather than a retreat, Zohran’s choice of messaging is the concretization of socialist principles.  He is rejecting ineffective, moral symbolic messaging in favor of an affective approach that actually resonates with and politicizes people. 

The national DSA platform, which has been the subject of controversy for him, includes a call for a united Ireland—a subject that holds zero relevance for the vast majority of Americans, regardless of their political leaning. This type of messaging is often geared toward satisfying an internal ideological audience, not toward building a broad, working-class base. It is a politics of self-affirmation that substitutes for the task of building power.  With Zohran’s platform, on the other hand, the abstract theory of class struggle between the bourgeoisie and the proletariat is concretized into the familiar and identifiable struggle over who gets to live in the city and how they afford to eat. This is how he forges the "collective will" that defines a true political party: not through remote, symbolic demands but through articulating the shared struggle over the conditions of daily life.

Where Zohran's campaign provided a clear example of how a socialist party can function in America’s political terrain, it also shows the limitations of the DSA's dominant paradigm of activism. This activistic, instrumental view of political activity within the organization is rooted in a specific ethos that conceives of political work voluntaristically. For many, joining DSA and its working groups becomes a moral obligation, a way to assuage the guilt and anxiety of living under American capitalism, particularly in a period of barbaric violence, including the US-backed genocide in Gaza. The relentless focus on "doing the work"—canvassing, phone banking, attending meetings—becomes an end in itself, a form of spiritual or ethical affirmation that prioritizes personal engagement regardless of what that work actually achieves. The organization, in this sense, can take on the role of a church, providing a space for a dedicated few to perform their socialist duty.

Of course, there is nothing inherently wrong with activism and organizing. Logistical capacity is a necessary component of any political endeavor. However, the problem arises when this activity is disconnected from its ultimate purpose: to activate broader bases of people and take broader action. The activist model often fails to distinguish between the quantity of work done and the quality of political power gained. It views the party as a machine that must be constantly fed with member volunteer hours, rather than as a vehicle for crystallizing and expressing the mass activity that is already happening in society.

The activist conception of politics is a voluntarist model of party building that operates on the flawed premise that socialists must first generate political activity from within their ranks. The underlying theory appears to be that it will spread from there to the masses, as if the movement is a garden to be cultivated by a select group of dedicated gardeners. It overlooks the fact that everyone is already engaged in social and political activity. The task of the political party is not to invent this energy but to identify it, give it voice, and organize it into a powerful collective will.

This gap between the party as an ethico-political force and the party as an activist organization explains why, in NYC alone, DSA membership represents a much narrower slice of Zohran’s overall base.  While NYC DSA hitting 10,000 members following Zohran’s victory for the Democratic nomination was very impressive, Zohran is expected to have 90,000 volunteers for the general election campaign, to put things in perspective. For a significant portion of the DSA's active members, political engagement is not a means to power but a subculture or a hobby. It appeals to a specific demographic—typically white, college-educated urban professionals or graduate students in their 20s and 30s.  For this group, a sense of belonging and moral purpose can be found in the rituals of activism: attending meetings, serving on committees, and engaging in internal debates.

This dynamic creates a striking division within the organization itself. There is a core activist layer that dedicates significant time to running the steering committees, organizing committees, and working groups. Then there is the vast majority of "paper members" who, while they identify with the ethos of DSA and may pay dues, do not participate in the daily operations. The activist core’s focus on the instrumental work of the organization can lead them to believe they are the sole drivers of political activity, while in reality, they are operating within a self-contained ecosystem that struggles to connect with the broader public. This is a politics of self-selection, where the activist volunteers their time and effort to an organization that primarily caters to their own ideological and social needs.

This activist conception of politics is not an accident; it is a direct byproduct of the neoliberal hegemonic formation and the "non-profit industrial complex" that has flourished within it. Neoliberalism, by gutting the welfare state and public services, created a vacuum that was then filled by non-governmental organizations (NGOs) and charities. These organizations, while often founded with noble intentions, operate on a logic that is fundamentally different from that of a mass political party. They are structured to address social problems through individualized service provision, grant-based funding, and measurable outcomes, rather than through collective political action aimed at systemic change.

The activist model within the DSA, while socialist in rhetoric or form, is liberal in its essence.  Despite the tendency to posit non-electoral activism as a less compromising alternative to participation in elections, it operates with a similar, albeit unstated, logic as NGO’s: that political work is about providing a service (tabling, phone banking) or managing a project (a working group), rather than articulating a collective will. This paradigm, with its focus on moral obligation and "doing the work," is a perfect fit for a political environment that has been depoliticized and hollowed out by neoliberalism. It channels the energy of a politically committed few into tasks that feel productive but often fail to challenge the very structures that create the problems they seek to solve. It is a politics of administration and self-care, a way to be "good" within a broken system, rather than a strategy for building a movement capable of seizing power.

The problem, above all, is that the activist model is not designed to mobilize the vast base that exists outside of this subculture. It's built to sustain a community of the politically committed, not to forge a collective will from the wider population.  With voluntarism on one hand, and abstract moral symbolism on the other, an organization built to be a subcultural community cannot, without a profound shift, also serve as a political party capable of seizing power in a country of over 300 million people. Zohran's success demonstrates that the "Modern Prince" must speak to the mass social practice already happening, not just the moral-voluntaristic efforts of a dedicated few. 

The task of socialists is not to cultivate a garden of dedicated volunteers but to become gardeners of the broader political landscape. This requires a fundamental shift in our understanding of power. We must move beyond the rationalist belief that power is a matter of having the "correct" platform, as well as the voluntarist belief that activism in and of itself can generate the mass party we wish to see.  We must embrace the affective and cultural dimensions of politics, learning to identify and amplify the genuine grievances and aspirations of working people. The goal is to build a counter-hegemonic formation that can make socialist principles feel not like a radical demand, but a new, intuitive common sense. The path to power lies in the streets, in the neighborhoods, and in the shared experiences of millions, waiting to be crystallized by a political movement that truly embodies their collective will.