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A brief take on primitivism

A couple of readers have asked for my take on primitivism, so here it is:

The earth has faced all kinds of horrific environmental catastrophes in its history - extinction events that wiped out most of the life on the planet, that exhausted its natural resources, that wrecked its natural beauty, and so on. It has seen apocalyptic-scale vulcanism, it has been entombed in miles of ice, it has been poisoned with oceans of methane, it has collided with rocks the size of planets. This sort of thing happens to the earth on a regular basis, and it will happen again soon enough.

Primitivists usually ask us to think of the welfare of the earth on geological time scales instead of narrowly considering our short-term interests, as humans are wont to do. I am not sure how we do this without concluding that recurring, natural extinction events pose the most serious long-term threat to life on earth. And if we do that, it would seem to follow directly that our ecological responsibility is to do everything we can to prevent these disasters.

This is not at all some utterly fantastic ambition: for example, we probably already have the technology to deflect near-earth objects using gravity tractors and such. But the point is that while some ecological dangers (climate change, resource depletion, and so on) arguably recommend primitivist solutions, other, equally real dangers would seem to demand the exact opposite: advanced technological solutions, some within our present reach, and some that we can only imagine.

This is by no means an exhaustive (or even fundamental) critique of primitivism, but I think it illustrates the selective, short-termist, and ecologically naive thinking that often afflicts the movement. Which is pretty funny since primitivists routinely claim the mantle of long-term, holistic, ecological realism. Bring down civilization, and you're just giving our world a fairly trivial stay of execution, and guaranteeing a pretty grim standard of living in the meantime. Work towards a just, sustainable, and technologically progressive world, and we'll at least have a chance, and you might even get to keep your XBox.


How reactionary individualism keeps liberals from understanding systematic oppression

Yesterday I posted a brief take on how left criticism gets co-opted by systematic features of our discourse towards liberal outcomes. And immediately, critics tried to reframe this systematic critique as the work of individuals. One reader - a Jordan Peterson fan - wrote:
These leftists you speak of aren't leftists. They're IDPol liberals & it isn't media control powering their overwhelming dominance of left discourse it's the simple fact everyone is either a liberal or afraid of ID call-out.
Meanwhile, Jeopardy gamer Arthur Chu - in a comment co-signed by Noah Berlatsky and Jill Filipovic - insists:
I don't see any possible reading of this article that doesn't say that if your primary political focus is reproductive rights and abortion on demand, you are by definition "liberal" and not "leftist"
In one sense, these complaints are directly at odds: one reader notices that I'm not calling individual leftists liberals and thinks that I should, while another thinks that I am doing this, and doesn't want me to. In common, however, both of these readings are trying to understand our discourse in terms of individual agency, individual identity, and individual responsibility. Both want to tease out from my analysis some kind of commentary on moral choices that individual people are making, and from there a judgment about who is liberal or leftist, good or bad, and so on.

This of course has nothing to with what I actually wrote. The problem I am describing is systematic, not the sinister work of malevolent individuals. It happens, I maintain, "even as individual actors maintain commitments to left principles"; the defense of abortion rights, for example, falls firmly "within the liberal-left consensus." The problems with Really Existing Purity Politics emerge from impersonal dynamics such as "capitalist control of the industrialized media," which will platform some points of political critique, but which is existentially hostile towards criticism of capitalism.

What is telling, I think, is that Chu insists I am making some statement about individual actors, about their identity and personal responsibility - and admits that he doesn't "see any possible reading of this article" to the contrary.

Because for all of the sympathy liberals have voiced in recent years towards left critiques of systematic / structural power, they cannot, in the end, escape reactionary ideas about individual agency and personal responsibility. For the liberal, power ultimately comes down to individual actors making personal choices. Our problems with capitalism, for example, are really just a matter of bad apples being greedy or breaking the law; if only everyone would behave themselves, the system would work fine. Similarly, because our discourse is a neutral free marketplace of ideas, its problems can only come from individual people saying things that are wrong; thus, if I am saying that our discourse creates liberal outcomes, I must "by definition" be saying that its participants are liberals.

In any case, while my last article was not aimed at liberals, this one certainly is. There are liberals who engage in Really Existing Purity Politics, there are leftists who engage in it, and there are - as we see with Chu, Berlatsky, and Filipovic - a handful of concern trolls who occasionally identify themselves as "the left", but who will reliably attack anything that resembles a left critique of liberalism. As we have seen, they will even attack a take affirming pro-choice politics if it dares, as I have dared, to suggest that this fight could be co-opted by capitalism.


The liberal call for left purity

It rarely gets put explicitly, but unpack the rationale for a certain genre of left activism and you'll get something like this: to emancipate the poor and oppressed masses around the world, we must banish from left organizations and social circles people who believe and do reactionary things. In the discourse, this theory is usually litigated as a call for political purity. The theory's critics bring up all kinds of pragmatic considerations about the need to build political coalitions, about the subject's net contribution to the left given the pros and cons, about the position of the subject's crime in a ranking of priorities, and so on; the theory's partisans, meanwhile, maintain a simple, principled call for political righteousness.

If what we actually care about is justice, equality, and prosperity - and not just in our proximate social and political circles, but everywhere - I don't think that purity praxis survives much scrutiny. Here, however, I want to make a quite different point: really existing purity praxis, in its most dominant form in left discourse, has nothing to do with purity. Set aside the metaphysical Platonic ideal of what purity praxis could be or should be and watch how it actually plays out in the real world of left politics, and one can't miss how this really works. Left purity is enforced as long as it's in agreement with mainstream liberalism; when the two are at odds, left purity is ignored, or dismissed as negotiable.

Consider, to bring up the obvious example, the recurring call for a purge from the left of anyone who opposes legalized abortion. As a rule, this controversy always plays out the same way. Critics of the purge call for tolerance, or they call for a temporary suspension of judgment, or they try to insist that pro-life activists actually do meet left standards of political purity. The purge's partisans, meanwhile, assume an uncompromising political posture, waving away objections as trivial pedantry, or bad-faith rules-lawyering, or base, treacherous leniency.

Single out this controversy - bracket it off from the broader operation of political discourse - and it's easy to understand Really Existing Purity Praxis (REPP) as a principled defense of left politics. Take one step back, however, and it's clear that REPP abandons any interest in purity as soon as we enter the realm of left economics. I do not mean to say that we merely neglect efforts to enforce left economic orthodoxy - because it's worse than that. Consistently, REPP tolerates, normalizes, defends, and even promotes reactionary economic positions. And it does all of this while claiming the mantle of political purity, and excorciating its critics as heretics.

Hypocrisy aside, what I think the left should find most troubling about REPP is the way that its double standard just-so-happens to benefit liberalism. When our discourse only enforces leftism acceptable to the liberal consensus while treating everything distinctive about leftism as negotiable, or debatable, or even possibly wrong, the effect is to subordinate left politics to the liberal agenda. The problem with REPP isn't that it enforces pure leftism - the problem is that what REPP enforces is neither pure nor leftism. It's just an exercise in liberalism.

I don't think it makes very much sense to understand REPP as a conscious or deliberate tactic that liberals use to hijack left discourse, though this certainly happens in some cases. To appreciate how it works, all one really needs to notice is a few things:
  • Liberalism still has overwhelming control of our media and political institutions, and it still has more popular support among activists in the first world. For this reason, all liberal positions have a massive apparatus of ideological enforcement in place - even those that fall within the liberal-left consensus. Whether they enter left discourse as hostile critics, cynical concern trolls, or sympathetic fellow-travelers, liberals will inevitably exercise an enormous warping effect upon REPP, contributing to and amplifying critiques that are amenable to their agenda while neglecting or directly undermining those that they find inconvenient.
  • Even leftists who are committed to the entire left agenda - even those who are aware of the critique of REPP I have outline above - will nevertheless have more opportunities, and will find it far more comfortable, to practice REPP within the liberal-left consensus. Corporate media and medium blog posts pump out a constant, endless supply of critique within the liberal-left consensus for leftists to cosign; anti-liberal left critique, meanwhile, will receive far less positive feedback, and will often receive considerable flak. And while these dynamics prey upon the powerful psychological forces of conflict aversion and ideological conformity, neither of them require the leftist to betray their values and principles at any particular moment - so the leftist who does not make an active, deliberate effort to compensate for REPP will have everything to gain and nothing to lose by embracing it.
  • Meanwhile, within the nominal left, affirmative economic prescriptions remain controversial. And the absence of a consensus alternative to rally around often leaves liberalism’s economics critics fractured, or encourages a multi-tendency economic agnosticism that can subtly expand to accommodate liberalism itself. Thus, while left critique to liberalism is systematically inflated, left critiques of liberalism are systematically undermined.
This is how REPP can subordinate left politics to liberal discourse even as individual actors maintain commitments to left principles. It also explains how liberals who exclusively enforce liberal priorities can come to think of themselves as leftists: within REPP, their behavior is indistinguishable.

Having recognized the way that liberalism can seize control of purity politics, it is tempting to propose, among leftists, a deliberate focus on policing economic discourse and practice - not because it is "more important" or "more fundamental" in some sense, but simply as a corrective to its overwhelming systematic erasure by REPP. Personally, however, I don't think this disadvantage can be overcome by clever discourse gaming by the left, particularly since it emerges from the basically insurmountable material advantages liberalism gains from things like capitalist control of industrialized media. As long as capitalism is with us, it will maintain a powerful ideological apparatus that is capable of co-opting the left agenda at any moment. The solution to this, of course, is the abolition of capitalism, but how you get from here to there while capitalism remains in control of the discourse remains a puzzle.


Did Trump's top economic advisor endorse a wealth cap?

Trump has tapped Larry Kudlow to head the National Economic Council, and I can't stop thinking about what Kudlow wrote a while back:
...while the Left has demonized Trump’s cabinet appointees as a terrible group of successful business people, free-market capitalists such as myself regard this group as very good indeed...Why shouldn’t the president surround himself with successful people? Wealthy folks have no need to steal or engage in corruption.
Most pundits responded to this by explaining that the rich are often corrupt thieves, but what strikes me is how Kudlow is actually contradicting a major point of capitalist orthodoxy. In theory, the reason that we let the rich get even richer is that financial incentives motivate peak professional performance from our captains of industry. But here, Kudlow insists that the rich are not motivated by opportunities to make more money. If that's true, why not impose a maximum cap on wealth?

To appreciate just how off-message Kudlow's comment is, just look back to the 2008 financial crisis. As income inequality and executive pay came under more public scrutiny than it had in decades, here's how Ira T. Kay and Steven Van Putten, writing for the Cato Institute, responded:
Corporate boards design executive pay programs to attract, retain, and motivate executive to perform at high levels. Motivation plays an important role in companies' ability to achieve high returns and encourage executives to make decisions that increase shareholder values. Incentive pay programs are particularly effective motivators, especially at the top level of business.
This is all important, of course, because the "executive compensation system...has helped to generate great wealth for shareholders and millions of jobs for American workers." And that's how capitalism justifies itself to society: because income is what motivates our wealthy innovators and job-creators, we need to give them more money.

If pressed on this, Kudlow would undoubtedly revise his position and insist that the rich do need financial incentives - but that just exposes his comment as the empty rationalization of power that it is.


What do liberals mean by "authoritarian"?

The discourse on authoritarianism has significantly ramped up over the past decade:

Though Google trends can be an unreliable guide, the growth here maps onto some intuitive milestones: the first major spike corresponds directly with Donald Trump's Super Tuesday victories in the Republican primaries, and the next corresponds to his general election victory and inauguration. Much of the talk about authoritarianism clearly owes to liberal anxieties about Trump, though it has also, by association, become a choice adjective for Russia's Vladimir Putin.

Nicholas Kristof, writing on Trump's Threat to Democracy, offers a telling formulation:
“President Trump followed the electoral authoritarian script during his first year,” Levitsky and Ziblatt conclude. “...But the president has talked more than he has acted, and his most notorious threats have not been realized...” 
That seems right to me: The system worked.
For most of history since the emergence of the left proper during the French Revolution, this phrasing would have been unremarkable. "The system," of course, is our government; to say that it is "working" is to say that formal democracy is checking the power of some central authority. Some two hundred years ago, that meant subduing the monarchy; in the twentieth century, it meant binding the hands of various dictators. An "authoritarian" is the ultimate "threat to democracy" because that is how power works: some ruthless and ambitious person tries to personally seize control of the government.

If this theory of power sounds familiar, there's a reason: it's capitalism. Capitalism is the ideology which teaches us that all power is government power; since the free market operates on a principle of voluntary exchange, coercion only emerges when the state tells people what to do. That's why the only real authority is government authority. For libertarians, that's all authoritarianism is: the government exercising power. Liberals, meanwhile, carry on the Revolutionary tradition of opposing monarchs and neo-monarchs ("dictators", "tyrants", etc.) who wield government power; this may seem distinct from the libertarian formulation, but both see power and authority as exclusive properties of the state.

This notion of the "authoritarian" ignores precisely what capitalism ignores: every other form of power.

A crucial contribution of the modern left to our understanding of power is the insight that power does not just come from the government. Live in a patriarchal household and you'll see the authoritarian in the domination of husbands, fathers, and brothers. Listen to the way black folks are talked to and you'll hear the authoritarian in a white voice. Work for a micro-managing boss, or beg a bank for a loan, and you'll meet the authoritarians of the bourgeoisie. Every day we encounter tyrants who do not control the state, but who threaten our freedom and even our lives in a million different ways.

Liberalism may co-opt the language of intersectionality, but fundamentally, it believes precisely what Kristof believes: if we can just keep the government under control, "the system works." That's why liberals reserve "authoritarian" for villains in the government - to remind us where authority is, and to insist where authority is not.


A few points about that study on so-called "call-out culture"

Conor Friedersdorf, writing for The Atlantic, has called into question what he describes as "the excesses of call-out culture" - particularly on social media - and asks, "what’s your theory of how that could advance social justice?"

As usual, this line of skepticism has prompted a broader discussion on all kinds of distinct questions (is call-out culture good? is it effective? does it ever warrant criticism?) - but here, I just want to touch on one narrow point. In response to the piece, Angus Johnston has pointed readers to an old study that has long circulated among call-out culture's partisans: Condemning and Condoning Racism: A Social Context Approach to Interracial Settings, by Blanchard, This study, Johnston says, establishes that "condemnation of antisocial behavior—and racially offensive speech specifically—is actually a tactic with a proven record of effectiveness".

While that may be true, this is a pretty ambitious reading of what that paper actually says. A few key passages, which its readers routinely neglect:

1. Online is not IRL. Blanchard notes,
Several features of our experimental paradigm may have contributed to the large social influence effects. Two of the elements of social impact theory (LatanĂ©, 1981), strength and immediacy, were set at high levels by our procedures. (996) 
By strength, I mean the...importance, or intensity of a given source to the target - usually this would be determined by such things as the source's status...prior relationship with, or future power over, the target. By immediacy, I mean closeness in space or time and absence of intervening barriers of filters. (344)
Obviously, both of these elements of social influence are experienced quite differently online than they are in Blanchard's experimental setting. Online, the socioeconomic status of the call-outer is often ambiguous or indeterminate; the prior relationship is typically non-existent, as is any "future power" over the target. Similarly, online call-outs are not experienced with any "closeness in space" or in the "absence of intervening barriers or filters." In other words, the very factors that Blanchard says are relevant - strength and immediacy - are both so diminished online that we can't just take for granted the relevance of this study.

All of this predicts quite directly the familiar dismissal of call-outs as coming from "trolls," "bots," "stans," "alts," and so on - critics who do not have status, and who therefore do not have influence. It is also quite consistent with the well-attested Online Disinhibition Effect, which emerges from all of the same factors: anonymity, lack of social proximity, and so on. There is, in short, no reason to assume that social media facilitates influence in the same way that real-world interactions do.

2. Influence declines among anti-racists. This is an effect that Blanchard noticed in a previous study, and that he set out to account for here:
Overhearing another person condemn racism yielded notably robust social influence on the two campuses where those who were exposed to influence were not already uniformly, strongly antiracist. (995, emphasis added.)
This could express what Blanchard calls a "ceiling limitation" (994)- the obvious fact that people who are antiracist (as measured by certain metrics) simply don't have much room to become less racist (as measured by those same metrics).

However - it could also mean that call-outs yield diminishing returns among people who are already "antiracist" in some general sense. I think it's easy to understand why: if you already think of yourself as an antiracist, and are already committed to various points of popular antiracist orthodoxy, you are likely to interpret a call-out as some kind of trivial "intellectual" critique rather than as a compelling attack on values. And as Blanchard notes, "judgmental issues (involving ethical, valued, or proper positions) are more likely to be susceptible to normative influence processes than intellective issues" (996).

If this reading holds, then call-outs may be the least effective where they often seem to emerge the most: in the context of "self-criticism", directed at subjects who see themselves as sharing the same values and same general political beliefs.

3. Influence may not be persistent. Blanchard:
...since we included no means of evaluating the durability of reactions to racism, the longevity of peer influences of the sort we investigated remains unknown. (996)
This point should be of particular concern to activists who are more interested in the long-term fight against racism than against the immediate gratification of fleeting shame or an insincere apology. As I noted previously, other studies have suggested that the "long-term effect" of shaming strategies can entail "a huge impact on one's identity...[it] has a strong impingement on emotional development" (Tanaka) which can precipitate a counterproductive, reactionary response to call-outs.

These points, of course, are just caveats. It may be the case that online call-outs are effective even when we do account for these considerations. And even if they aren't tactically effective, of course, one can still argue for them as expressions of solidarity, as speaking truth-to-power, and so on. But however the evidence shakes out, the case for online call-outs is not well-served by appeals to a study that does not ultimately make that case.


Centrists are going to learn the wrong lessons from Doug Jones' win

If we are even minimally concerned with social justice and equality, it's pretty simple to make the case that Democrats should fight for the interests of black voters. In recent years, however, a different argument has become popular: Democrats should campaign for black votes because this is a strategy that wins elections. It's a line of argument that lends itself to the sensibilities of a calculating, mercenary, and partisan political class of armchair quants and "data-journalists", so I don't think that we should be surprised by its popularity - but I also think that it's deeply suspicious, and extremely dangerous.

Consider last night's victory by Democrat Doug Jones over Republican challenger Roy Moore. Already, we are seeing headlines like African American Voters Made Doug Jones a U.S. Senator in AlabamaBlack voters just saved America from Roy Moore, and How Black Voters Lifted Doug Jones Over Roy Moore. And by some measures, that's exactly what happened. Jones has the backing of 96% of black voters, and black turnout was high at 29% - about three percentage points higher than their representation in the electorate would predict.

But if you insist on being a bottom-line obsessed demographic wonk, then I promise you, those aren't the numbers that the Democratic Party cares about. When a campaign strategist looks at race in Alabama, this is what she's going to see:

Yes, black Alabamans supported Jones almost unanimously - though they always support the Democrat almost unanimously. Yes, black Alabamans had good turnout - though they always have good turnout. Those numbers only improved on 2012 by a few percentage points at the very most, but none of this was decisive. 

What clearly changed between 2012 and 2017 is that Jones won 10% more white votes than Obama, while Moore earned 12% less than Romney - a swing of over 20 points. In comparison, black voters only gave Jones a 1% higher margin than Obama had.

Again: if you are a mercenary Democratic strategist, you are going to look at these numbers and decide that Democrats can take black voters for granted and need to focus on white voters. This is the lesson that Northam taught them in Virginia, and this is the lesson that Jones is teaching them in Alabama. The way you combat this is not to promote a politics of amoral demographic gaming, but to insist that Democrats need to fight for black voters regardless of what opportunistic (and largely superficial) data-wonkery suggests.


Trump and the failure of incrementalism

Donald Trump and Congressional Republicans are advancing an epochal tax bill "that could reshape major areas of American life," the New York Times reports:
Some see in this tilt a reworking of basic principles that have prevailed in American life for generations... 
“This is a repudiation of the social contract that Franklin Roosevelt announced at the New Deal,” Joseph J. Ellis, a Pulitzer Prize-winning American historian, said...
This may seem like unusually apocalyptic prose for a news report, but we've heard a lot of this in the past year. The American Healthcare Act, Esquire warned in May, would "fundamentally reshape the American healthcare system" if passed; in June, Time Magazine explained that "the Paris Agreement represents a...decade of international discussions on climate change" and that Trump's withdrawal would "toss aside years of grinding work from the global community."

On front after front, the Trump Administration is teaching us the same lesson: in just a few moments, the right can completely nullify decades and decades of patient, pragmatic, hard-won incremental progress. This point is not really all that controversial: the night before her 2016 loss, Hillary Clinton warned that Trump would "rip away the progress we’ve made and turn the clock back, sending us back in time"; similarly, President Obama warned that Trump "in the first couple of weeks sitting in the Oval Office [could] reverse every single thing that we've done."

But contrast that warning with Obama's own words just a few weeks later during his farewell speech:
Yes, our progress has been uneven. The work of democracy has always been hard, contentious and sometimes bloody. For every two steps forward, it often feels we take one step back. But the long sweep of America has been defined by forward motion...
This theory of "forward motion" may be a truism among American liberals, but it's directly at odds with a point liberals will themselves admit in moments of insecurity: you can lose every inch of progress in the blink of an eye. All it takes is a sufficiently ambitious right or some unusually bad luck. More often progress can die the death of a thousand cuts, as one can see in the steady, deliberate erosion of the welfare state in the US; but occasionally you get a Donald Trump, and then the reversal becomes impossible to miss.

The theory of incrementalism, as far as I can tell, is that we should prefer the guarantee of slow-but-steady progress, which is achieved through modest ambitions, to the risks of immediate victory. What Trump is showing us, however, is that even if you win a short-term incremental victory, you can still end up with nothing in the end. You can engage in years of modest pragmatic compromise climate change diplomacy and find yourself right back where you started a decade later; you can pass "achievable" business-friendly health care legislation on the assumption that this will engineer some kind of universal coverage down the road, and then have it gutted as soon as the opposition takes power. If what we care about is progress, an incremental victory can easily leave you in the exact same place as you'd be if you'd taken a big political gamble and failed.

The only way the progress rationale for incrementalism survives is if you accept liberalism's mystical theory that for some reason (Providence? American exceptionalism? Wishful thinking?) progress never gets completely reversed or eroded away. Perhaps there are other reasons to prefer incrementalism as a political strategy, but if we take the threat of Donald Trump seriously, we should abandon this "forward motion" ideology once and for all.


Most liberals support violent sex offenders

YouGov has conducted some polling on American politicans embroiled in sex scandals, and the results are not particularly flattering for liberals.

An extraordinary 71% of self-identified liberals still approve of Bill Clinton, compared to 52% of moderates and 19% of conservatives. That majority is even stronger among Democrats (at 77%), especially compared to independents (37%). This despite the fact that 75% of liberals and 68% of Democrats believe that he "probably" or "definitely" committed sexual assault.

Similarly, Al Franken retains majority support among liberals (at 54%) and plurality support among Democrats (at 42%), compared with plurality opposition among independents and moderates. This, even though most liberals (66%) and Democrats (64%) believe that he's guilty of sexual harassment.

Two simple points:
1) Particularly over the past year, it has become popular to insist that only a trivial number of unusually vocal liberals are reactionary, while an overwhelming majority are quietly sympathetic to left politics. For example, this was the standard (tortured) reading of a poll a while back which demonstrated that only 8% of Democratic voters oppose Bernie Sanders. But what polls like this show us is that in fact significant majorities of Democrats are quite willing to take reactionary positions when it's politically convenient. 
2) A similar line of rationalization spares liberals from critique by bracketing off reactionary politics as a problem of so-called moderates and centrists - the toxin hasn't spread among liberals per se, just among an odd and distinct species of fence-sitters and No Labels enthusiasts. In fact, however, what we see here is that support for dangerous misogynists is actually stronger among liberals and Democrats than among independents and moderates.
In my view, all of this is pretty easy to understand once we accept that ideological and partisan labels often have more to do with tribal identity than with values and political committments. A third or so of all Americans grew up in liberal Democratic families, socialize in liberal Democratic communities, and live in liberal Democratic districts. Predictably, these people will tend to think of themselves as liberals and Democrats, and they will tend to cheer for causes and positions aligned with liberals and Democrats. This only implies so much, however, about their personal priorities, interests, and sympathies.

When Phil Ochs famously said that American liberals are "ten degrees to the left of center in good times, ten degrees to the right of center if it affects them personally", he was making this basic distinction between politics and cultural identity. As the response to Clinton and Franken is demonstrating, this is a distinction that the left would do well to bear in mind.


What does Northam's win teach us about the Democratic coalition?

I'm inclined to say "not very much". Virginia's off-year governor races turn out a smaller and different constituency than what you see during other elections, which means that you can win with different coalitions. And as Clinton taught us, you can win Virginia and still lose the country. Still, I suppose that the demographic breakdowns are inevitable, so here's all you need to know:

These numbers indicate how much Virginia's Democratic coalition changed in each demographic as a percentage of voters between 2016 and 2017. To calculate them, I just determined Clinton's margin of victory (or defeat) against Trump in each demographic, and I subtracted those numbers from the corresponding figures in this election. I also adjusted for changes in turnout. This year, for example, Northam won a major demographic that Clinton lost in Virginia: voters making $50-100k a year. And this improvement is even more significant because this year a bigger slice of the pie made $50-100k: 33% of voters in 2017, versus 30% in 2016.

So if we just look at demographic shifts, the story is straightforward: Northam improved on Clinton's numbers with a coalition that was whiter, more middle class, and that had more men. (The rest of the margins are probably too small to mean very much.) Again, I don't think that this tells us much about what Democrats should do in future campaigns. But I do suspect that it will affirm what much of the party establishment is already thinking:

Northam himself flirted with this strategy with his anti-immigrant comments; moving forward, I expect more of the same.