NEOLIBERALISM, the dominant economic and political paradigm of the four decades of my life, has profoundly shaped every aspect of modern American society. Emerging from a reaction against the collective gains of mid-20th-century social democracy, neoliberalism champions the free market as the ultimate arbiter of all aspects of human existence. It actively dismantles collective institutions, weakens public goods, and replaces communal solidarity with a pervasive ethos of individualism. Under this framework, people are seen not as members of a community but as self-interested, competitive actors pursuing personal gain.
The ideology of neoliberal individualism extends beyond economics, infiltrating social and political spaces, including, most importantly for the purposes of this essay, those dedicated to organizing for change. It undermines solidarity by centering personal desires over communal needs, fostering cynicism about collective action, and eroding democratic decision-making. To build and sustain movements capable of systemic change, we must reject neoliberalism’s atomizing tendencies to embrace collectivism, solidarity, and community-centered approaches to organizing.
We may roughly envision "neoliberalism" as an ideological and political framework prioritizing market solutions over collective or state-led approaches. Scholars have investigated the concept at length. One useful description from David Harvey identifies neoliberalism as a project to reestablish class power by dismantling the protections and institutions won by workers and marginalized groups in the mid-20th century.1 Traditionally, neoliberalism promotes privatization, deregulation, and austerity, while instilling the belief that individual choice and market competition are the ultimate expressions of freedom.
This ideology frames individuals as entrepreneurs of the self—personally responsible for their success or failure in an ostensibly meritocratic system. The individual under this ideology is supreme in both agency and personal responsibility. Structural barriers, collective histories, and social injustices are traditionally downplayed or dismissed altogether. Neoliberalism does not merely organize economies; it reshapes how we understand ourselves and our relationships with one another. This pervasive ethos has deep implications for how we as American socialists organize and resist systemic oppression.
Historically this concept has been embodied and advanced by institutions and organizations domestically in the US and globally. The International Monetary Fund (IMF) and the World Bank have played central roles in enforcing neoliberal economic policies, particularly in the Global South, where they have imposed structural adjustment programs gutting social services and labor protections in favor of feeding the endless appetites of privatization and market liberalization. Domestically in the US, the Democratic Leadership Council (DLC) exemplified neoliberalism within the political sphere, shifting the Democratic Party away from its mid-century labor and welfare roots to the pro-market policies driven by figures like Bill Clinton and under which we remain trapped. The Reagan-Thatcher revolution of the 1980s remains a defining moment, advancing tax cuts for the wealthy, deregulation, and an assault on organized labor, laying the foundation for decades of neoliberal hegemony. More recently, gig economy giants including Uber and Amazon embody neoliberalism in practice, treating workers as independent contractors while dismantling labor protections in the name of efficiency and personal “choice.”
By understanding these historical and institutional forces, we can grasp how neoliberalism operates—not only as an economic model but as an entrenched ideological system that shapes our organizing terrain today.
Notably, neoliberalism’s influence extends beyond institutions and policies—it seeps into our everyday lives, shaping how we see ourselves, our responsibilities, and our relationships. By dismantling collective structures and reinforcing market logic, neoliberalism fosters a culture where individuals are encouraged to navigate the world as isolated economic actors rather than as members of a shared struggle. This shift is not incidental but essential to the ideology’s survival. If neoliberalism thrives on weakening collective power, then its most effective mechanism is its vision of individualism—the belief that personal effort alone determines success, that social problems are best addressed through individual choices, and that solidarity is secondary to self-interest. It is here, in the psychological and cultural realm, that neoliberalism does its most insidious work.
While personal autonomy and self-expression have been essential to liberation movements around the world, individualism has promoted under neoliberalism is different. This vision of individualism is an intentionally weaponized ideology that isolates us as individuals, driving the idea that alone one can, and indeed must, solve collective problems. Neoliberal individualism positions people as consumers and competitors and erodes the sense of shared responsibility and mutual obligation necessary for collective action.
This ideology thrives under capitalism, particularly in its contemporary American implementation, where the demands of work leave minimal room for community engagement. The few hours left after work are spent on personal survival or fleeting moments of leisure. As a result, we as individuals find ourselves isolated from our communities, reducing opportunities to build the trust and relationships that solidarity requires. Consequently, as we've experienced regularly in spaces like DSA, when people eventually enter organizing spaces, they often unknowingly bring the individualistic tendencies instilled by a lifetime under capitalism.
In organizing, neoliberal individualism manifests in several harmful ways. Campaigns and movements are regularly forced to reflect the personal interests of participants or leaders rather than the collective needs of the community. The neoliberal logic of personal choice prioritizes what individuals want to organize over what broader groups need to survive and thrive. This misalignment can and regularly does fragment efforts into scattered or competing initiatives that lack the power to enact systemic change.
For example, in housing justice movements, some well-intentioned activists and organizers may push for small-scale mutual aid solutions—helping individuals pay rent or find housing—rather than investing in tenant organizing or rent strikes that demand structural reforms. While mutual aid is important and a fundamental good, neoliberalism frames it as the primary solution, reinforcing the idea that solving systemic issues is an individual responsibility rather than a collective struggle against landlords and capital. Similarly, in labor organizing, workers may be encouraged to negotiate personal benefits or quit for a "better job" rather than fight for workplace-wide improvements through unions or collective bargaining. These approaches, while individually understandable, ultimately reinforce a neoliberal framework that prioritizes personal survival over solidarity, political change and systemic transformation.
From this foundation, neoliberalism fosters cynicism about collective action. The ideology teaches that individuals should focus on their self-interest, while in contrast the masses are portrayed as apathetic or incapable of meaningful change. This belief often seeps from news media and political spheres into organizing spaces, where a small group of decision-makers—often charismatic leaders or, in the nonprofit space, funders—dominate strategy and decision-making. While this approach may seem efficient, it sidelines democratic processes and weakens the foundational principle of solidarity.1
For instance, in climate activism, donor-driven organizations may receive funding with specific restrictions on tactics—preventing disruptive and potentially effective direct action and instead channeling energy into policy proposals or corporate partnerships. This top-down structure mirrors the neoliberal model of leadership, ceding decision-making power to the hands of funders rather than frontline communities. Similarly, in labor movements, big-name leaders or politicians are often positioned as the face of the struggle, while rank-and-file organizers—the ones actually driving the movement—are sidelined. When people see decision-making concentrated in a few hands, they may disengage, further feeding the cynicism that "real change isn’t possible."
Neoliberalism transforms all our society's politics into a marketplace where individual desires masquerade as collective will—a marketplace where our needs and shared interests are reduced to mere preferences, no more essential than flavors of ice cream or brands of clothing. Under this logic, society’s most pressing problems are framed as issues that can be resolved through personal consumer choices rather than through collective struggle. This dynamic fuels the prioritization of short-term wins and individual recognition over the long-term goal of building the robust and inclusive movements necessary to challenge power.
Corporations, for example, co-opt social movements through brand messaging and performative activism. During Pride Month, we've all seen companies wrap themselves in rainbow flags while funding anti-LGBTQ+ politicians. Similarly during the 2020 protests companies like Nike were climbing over each other to proclaim how much Black Lives Mattered, or hurried to promote diversity and inclusion training while continuing to exploit workers and avoid meaningful structural change. Consumers are told that buying from the "right" brands is activism, while collective action—such as unionizing workers in these very companies—is sidelined. The neoliberal marketplace turns political engagement into aesthetic choices rather than sites of struggle.
This system presents a political landscape where collective interests are fragmented and where systemic injustices are repackaged as individual struggles, solvable through personal achievement rather than collective action. The failure of "progressive neoliberalism" was not just its economic betrayals but its ideological framing, which hollowed out class struggle, replacing it with a corporate-friendly politics of representation. This mirrors what we see in organizing spaces today—where neoliberal individualism encourages movements to center personal choice, careerism, and elite decision-making over the messy, democratic work of building collective power. If we are to avoid the failures outlined in Nancy Fraser's 2017 Dissent article, we must refuse the logic of neoliberalism altogether, rejecting both its reactionary and progressive variants in favor of a genuinely collective, working-class politics rooted in solidarity and structural transformation.
Quite often within organizations like DSA, this challenge manifests in arguments around the efficacy or failures of electoralism. I would argue that our struggle, and the struggle of the broader left, lies in rejecting binary thinking on this issue. On one hand, engaging in elections is vital for advancing policies that materially improve people’s lives and for building working-class power within formal political institutions. Too often, however, organizing becomes overly focused on charismatic leaders or electoral outcomes alone, mirroring neoliberal individualism by placing disproportionate faith in individual politicians rather than collective action. This dynamic risks sidelining grassroots movements and undermining accountability.
Following Bernie Sanders’ 2020 presidential campaign, some who were mobilized by his candidacy became disillusioned and disengaged from politics entirely, rather than channeling that energy into ongoing efforts. This pattern is common—after electoral losses, rather than building infrastructure that outlasts any one campaign, many organizers struggle to find ways to stay involved. Conversely, even after electoral wins, without sustained pressure, politicians often abandon their progressive promises. To counter this, it is essential to view elections as one tool among many for change, paired with sustained pressure and accountability for elected officials. Leaders must remain answerable to the communities and movements that helped elect them, ensuring that power stays rooted in collective struggle rather than in individuals.
Members of this chapter have often heard me wax poetic on the value of democracy and its centrality to both DSA as an organization and socialism as a broader movement. One of the most significant challenges posed by neoliberalism is its erosion of democratic values within organizing spaces. Neoliberalism reframes democracy not as a collective process of decision-making, but as a threat to or limitation of personal freedom. This perspective is deeply ingrained in US society, where losing a vote or abiding by a collective decision is often seen as an affront to individual autonomy or the rights of the minority.
This attitude regularly surfaces in organizing spaces as resistance to institutional democratic norms and rules. Participants may struggle to commit to collective decisions, particularly when those decisions conflict with their personal preferences. Such resistance undermines the trust and cohesion necessary for building solidarity. Movements that fail to establish democratic practices risk reproducing the very hierarchies they aim to dismantle. Despite these challenges, I see DSA’s commitment to internal democracy as one of our core strengths, a foundation that sets us apart and propels our mission forward. At the same time, it is important to acknowledge that systems and structures of democracy matter. Often within formalized spaces, like the space that DSA holds, the structures and systems of democracy shape the outcomes it produces. All of these systems are imperfect, and we should strive to improve them wherever possible.
I envision democracy not merely as a pragmatic tool, but as a good in and of itself. It is inherently right, just, and vital for people to take an active role in their governance and the decision-making processes of their society. Within organizing spaces, democracy ensures that participants have ownership over the choices that shape our efforts. It safeguards against the concentration of power and ensures that organizing reflects the needs and interests of the community rather than those of a few elites. This ownership is critical to creating spaces that are participatory, equitable, and capable of fostering meaningful change.
Democratic systems of self-governance are, by their very nature, superior frameworks for organizing spaces advocating for change. Unlike undemocratic hierarchical structures often mirroring corporations, which rely on the limited perspectives of a select few, democratic systems draw on the varied experiences, insights, and knowledge of the membership. This diversity consistently drives more balanced and effective decision-making, mitigating the biases and blind spots that individuals or elites might otherwise perpetuate. Moreover, when people see their voices are genuinely heard and valued, they are more likely to commit to collective goals and take ownership of the outcomes. By harnessing the collective wisdom of its members, democratic self-governance fosters solidarity, accountability, and resilience, making it the ideal framework for movements seeking transformative change. Put simply: we are stronger together.
Rebuilding this sense of solidarity requires fostering a democratic ethos that values communal needs over personal desires. As Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor observes, solidarity is not about sameness, but about understanding our shared fate and how it connects us to one another.2 This perspective is essential for movements seeking to challenge neoliberalism and build a more equitable society. Through democracy, we create the conditions for that solidarity—a shared vision rooted in mutual trust and collective action. It is through these commitments that we can build movements capable of creating a better, fairer world.
One of the many harms of neoliberalism is its ability to erode the imagination necessary for envisioning a different path forward. By portraying the market as the only viable means of allocating resources, neoliberalism suppresses the belief that collective action can create transformative change. This cynicism often manifests in organizing spaces as a lack of faith in the capacity of the masses to lead. In the media, we witnessed this during the last decade's Occupy movement and more recently in the Black Lives Matter movement. This challenge regularly rears its head in critiques of leaderless movements. When our movements lack individual leaders to serve as their face—to speak for the masses and to be torn down and delegitimized over personal frailties—this is presented as a weakness rather than a strength.
Mainstream media, deeply entrenched in neoliberal ideology, prefers movements with clear, charismatic leaders who can be celebrated or condemned as individuals. A movement without clear leadership disrupts this narrative, making it harder for power structures to co-opt, manipulate, or discredit the movement through personal attacks. We saw this play out in the wake of the 2020 George Floyd uprisings, where media coverage oscillated between elevating individual activists and distorting the broader goals of the movement. Similarly, the media’s inability—or refusal—to engage seriously with Occupy Wall Street’s horizontal structure contributed to its misrepresentation as "disorganized" or "lacking demands." In contrast, elite-backed movements or political campaigns that fit into existing hierarchical structures receive favorable media framing, reinforcing the neoliberal preference for individual leadership over collective action.
This media logic discourages genuinely democratic, decentralized organizing by making leaderless movements appear chaotic while rewarding those that conform to traditional power structures. In doing so, it further entrenches cynicism about mass movements and collective struggle, making it more difficult for people to imagine a world beyond the neoliberal status quo.
In contrast, it is preferred by elites that decisions are made by a select few rather than through democratic processes. That reinforces existing hierarchies and undermines the collective power of the working class. We see this in regular searches for political or social elites to stand in as representatives of broader organizing efforts. Economist and labor educator Michael Yates argues that neoliberalism “destroys the imagination necessary for envisioning a different way of organizing society,” leaving even organizing efforts trapped within its logic. To counter this, organizations and movements like ours must reclaim the belief that collective power, rather than individual action, is the key to systemic change.
At the same time, we have all observed in the mass movements of recent years, the harm that can be done by the media in the absence of clear leadership. From Occupy to the 2020 protests, the absence of clear leadership has been weaponized time and again to misrepresent the aims of our movements or to use those movements performatively for personal gain.4 Here again we find the need for moderation and compromise between our contrasting views, as despite the strengths of horizontal structures in promoting inclusivity, these approaches leave space for external narratives to shape our movement's identity. Democratic approaches to establishing accountable leadership within movements can help ensure coherent messaging, maintain strategic direction, and effectively engage with external forces including media.
To resist the corrosive effects of neoliberal individualism, organizing spaces must strive constantly to center democracy, solidarity, and collectivism. This requires intentional efforts to prioritize collective needs and democratic practices over individual desires. In spaces like DSA, we must engage openly, debate and disagree honestly, stand together on our conclusions, and fight side by side for a better world. Solidarity is not automatic, indeed it can be terribly difficult and counter to our cultural foundations. It must be built through trust, mutual support, and a shared commitment to the common good.
Movements must also challenge the cynicism fostered by neoliberalism. This means creating spaces where participants learn to trust in the power of collective action and the capacity of working people to lead. One of the things I've been consistently proud of in Metro DC DSA is the chapter's ability to create these spaces around organizing and tangibly fighting for change. By rejecting the neoliberal mindset, organizing efforts can cultivate a culture of solidarity that values shared responsibility and communal power.
Finally, reclaiming solidarity requires reimagining democracy as a source of collective strength, not a threat to individual freedom. This means embracing the discomfort of compromise and the discipline of abiding by collective decisions, even when they challenge personal preferences. Solidarity is not easy—it is built, tested, and strengthened through struggle. But struggle is not a reason for despair. It is the foundation of every victory. When things don’t go our way, inside or outside our organizing spaces, that should never be an excuse to retreat. Neoliberalism thrives on division, on exhaustion, on making us believe that change is impossible. We must refuse its logic at every turn.
We are not just fighting to improve our organizing spaces—we are fighting to transform the world. That fight is long. That fight is hard. But it is a fight worth winning.
ENDNOTES
1 - See more from Wendy Brown's Undoing the Demos: Neoliberalism's Stealth Revolution, published by Zone Books, 2017.
2 - See Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor and Angela Davis' From #BlackLivesMatter to Black Liberation, Expanded second edition, published by Haymarket Books, 2021.
3 - See Michael D. Yates' Can the Working Class Change the World?, published by Monthly Review Press, 2018.
4 - See Vincent Bevins' If We Burn: The Mass Protest Decade and the Missing Revolution, published by WILDFIRE, 2023.
