· 5 min read
In recent decades, the political left has found itself caught in a crisis — not merely of power, but of purpose and credibility. The left has failed not because it lacks ideals or supporters, but because it has repeatedly betrayed the very narrative it claims to uphold. This failure has created fertile ground for the right to grow stronger, often by turning the left’s broken promises into tools of manipulation and blame.
At the core of this dynamic lies a fundamental contradiction. The left presents itself as the champion of the working class, the saviour of the oppressed, and the protector of the public good. However, when in power, many of its leaders reveal themselves to be centrist managers of the status quo. They are often unwilling or unable to redistribute power, as doing so would threaten their own positions and their dependence on elite support.
This contradiction is not accidental. The left’s narrative often hinges on the promise of salvation: “We will save you from poverty, from inequality, from the cruelty of markets.” Yet time and again, when left-leaning parties ascend to power, they fail to follow through. They maintain neoliberal economic frameworks, placate corporate interests, and reinforce bureaucratic structures that alienate rather than empower citizens. This disconnect between rhetoric and reality breeds cynicism and disillusionment, especially among the very people the left purports to represent. Voters who are promised transformative change see only modest reforms — or worse, continuity under a new brand. The result is a crisis of trust.
Ironically, this failure serves the right. When the left promises salvation and delivers technocracy, the betrayal becomes easy to weaponise. The right needs only to point and say: “See? Government doesn’t work. The left lies. You’re still poor. It must be your fault — or the fault of migrants, big government, or regulation.” The seductive logic of personal responsibility fills the vacuum left by broken collective promises. If no one else is coming to save you, then the idea that your fate is solely in your hands — through hard work, entrepreneurial spirit, or personal discipline — becomes more plausible, even if it is a lie.
This transition from faith in systemic change to belief in individualism is not coincidental. It is the product of a broader ideological shift. Once people stop trusting that governments can or will intervene meaningfully on their behalf, they become more receptive to narratives that shift blame downward. Poverty becomes a personal failure, not a systemic injustice. Welfare becomes a handout, not a lifeline. Regulation becomes a burden, not a protection. This is how neoliberalism thrives: not just by cutting back the state, but by convincing people that the state was never really on their side to begin with.
The tragedy is that the left has often helped write this story. When it reinforces the saviour narrative, positioning itself as the only alternative to chaos and inequality, it sets itself up for failure. No government can single-handedly “save” people without building new forms of participatory politics. And when salvation does not arrive, disillusionment is inevitable. This dynamic further entrenches polarisation. The state becomes a symbol of failure, and the left becomes synonymous with state failure. Meanwhile, right-wing politicians cynically underfund public services, then point to their inefficiency as proof that privatisation is the only solution. It becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.
This shared service to elite interests, across both left and right, is the root of the problem. Left-wing parties have increasingly directed public spending toward the market rather than the public good, chasing economic growth while tolerating deepening inequality. Right-wing parties, meanwhile, dismantle regulation and cut taxes in the name of “freedom,” enriching the wealthy while telling the poor that their situation is their own doing. Neither side offers a vision of real empowerment. Both serve a system designed to concentrate wealth and maintain control.
To break this cycle, the left must abandon the saviour narrative and embrace a new form of politics — one grounded not in control, but in empowerment. This means relinquishing some of its own power, not just rhetorically but structurally. It means designing institutions that do not merely speak for people, but with them. It means creating space for citizens to participate meaningfully in shaping their lives and communities.
There are concrete ways to do this. Citizens’ assemblies can play a critical role in democratising decision-making, especially on complex issues like climate, housing, and inequality. Public officials must be willing to reduce their own privileges and open the doors to real transparency, allowing citizens to scrutinise and shape policies — not just vote every few years. Politicians must work to remove money from politics and restrict lobbying. Labor rights must be strengthened through support for unions, shorter working weeks (such as the four-day work week), and laws that protect collective well-being. Community engagement must become central to governance, not an afterthought. Perhaps most importantly, the left must focus on rebuilding social cohesion by fostering stronger bonds between citizens, not merely between politicians and voters. It must shift the narrative away from blaming individuals for systemic failures and instead emphasise that, together, we have the power to create something far greater.
This shift requires the left to be humble. It must stop assuming it knows best and start building politics that emerge from lived experience. That means organising locally, listening more than speaking, and treating people not as recipients of policy but as co-creators of society. It means understanding that power must be shared to be effective. When citizens feel ownership over decisions, they are far more likely to believe in and support collective action. That is the only way to rebuild trust.
The future of the left depends on its willingness to be bold — not in promises, but in practices. It must resist the temptation to manage decline or play by the rules of a rigged system. Instead, it must focus on transforming the very foundations of political life: from hierarchy to collaboration, from saviourism to solidarity, from centralisation to citizen empowerment.
In this way, the left can begin to heal the wounds it has helped create. It can demonstrate that governments can indeed work, but only when they are not run for the people, but by them. Until then, the cycle of betrayal, blame, and backlash will continue — and the dream of a more just society will remain just that: a dream.
illuminem Voices is a democratic space presenting the thoughts and opinions of leading Sustainability & Energy writers, their opinions do not necessarily represent those of illuminem.
