Addressing the NYC-DSA Convention

Reflections on Our Struggle, Failures, and the Path Forward

A rough transcript of my remarks at the NYC-DSA Convention on October 19, 2024.

Thank you to the organizers for inviting me to speak. I come before you today carrying a heavy heart and heavy burden of failure.

We have failed to achieve freedom, dignity, or equal rights for the Palestinian people. We have failed to secure Palestinian statehood or self-determination. We have failed to stop the U.S. from supplying weapons for offensives in Rafah or Southern Lebanon. We have failed to establish an arms embargo or achieve a ceasefire, or halt settlement expansion. We failed to re-elect Jamaal Bowman and Cori Bush or secure even three minutes of speaking time for a Palestinian American at the Democratic National Convention. And we have failed to shift the overall direction of Biden, Harris, or Democratic Party leadership.

This past year has brought some of the toughest setbacks our movement has faced in growth of the left since Bernie’s 2016 campaign—setbacks that are not just political, but also weigh on us spiritually and ethically, resonating deeply within us. 

My own family is divided over this election: my father and many older men I know may vote for Trump in large part because of Gaza. My mother is likely to vote for Stein. We are witnessing a historic realignment among Arab and Muslim communities, with some moving toward Trumpism, others toward third parties. How could Trump be worse than they say? And the normalization of Trumpism that the Democratic Party leadership’s alignment with Netanyahu has caused breaks my heart. It’s a desperate response to a system that has continually failed us—a response that benefits figures like Elon Musk and Miriam Adelson, who profit from our pain.

I come before you burdened not just by the failures of our movement but by my own. In 2014, I believed we could build a 'Tea Party of the Left'—a force strong enough to topple a few corporate-backed incumbents and shift the Democratic Party on a range of issues, including foreign policy. 

The hope was that by winning a few key races, the party would shift in a more progressive, working-class direction on a range of policy issues. And for a moment, it seemed to be working. Jamaal Bowman’s victory over Eliot Engel—one of AIPAC’s strongest allies—was a milestone, as was Cori Bush’s win in Missouri. We even saw signs of movement within the Democratic Party in 2020 on weapons to Israel with a number of presidential primary candidates coming out in favor of restrictions, albeit incremental.

But the victories were fleeting. The counter-attack and counter-organizing from AIPAC and the party establishment hit harder than many of us may have anticipated. We failed to build the infrastructure to sustain those wins.

When Bowman lost, it was more than a political setback—it was a personal one. I thought that if we could just score a few big wins, we’d shift the landscape permanently. But politics is not a sprint; it’s a marathon. It’s an ocean without a shore. We won a few rounds but were unprepared for the long haul. It felt like trying to hold water in my hands; no matter how tight I closed my grip, the power slipped away.

But then reality set in. The infrastructure that helped elect Bowman and Bush couldn’t withstand AIPAC’s counterattack. Neither the Working Families Party, DSA, nor Justice Democrats, had the depth of voters, donors, and community organizing needed to sustain him against that kind of onslaught. We needed to build a four-year coalition project in Bowman’s and Bush’s districts—and we all collectively failed. I failed.

It’s easy to blame arms manufacturers for Democratic opposition to an Israel arms embargo, but the real influence in districts come from representing communities of actual Democrats with networks and standing. These groups mobilize voters, build in-district networks, and provide financial backing. On campaigns, it’s these groups—not weapons manufacturers—pressuring candidates, warning that conditioning aid to Israel could make them “out of touch with the community.” For Democrats, especially moderates, this organized, real-world pressure is tough to ignore. If progressive candidates feel it, imagine the pressure on middle-of-the-road Democrats.

AIPAC is organizing voters, donors, and institutions. The AIPAC network’s financial power is key, but they also do community organizing. I’ve had several experiences of dealing with AIPAC’s Black Outreach Director reaching out 5-10 Black clergy in a district to set up a meeting with a candidate to discuss “Black issues” with Israel being one on a list. They not only have leverage relationships with key donors, but also key institutional and community leaders in districts and states across the country. 

Power is about self-interest and power is about organized voters, money, and institutions. We don’t have enough of these elements, and it’s a strategic failure on all our parts.

So, I stand here today, feeling the weight of failure upon failure upon failure; failure that has caused bombs to drop on the families and loved ones of people I know. After all the mass marches, civil disobedience, and the Uncommitted campaign, we must now ask ourselves: what is our assessment of the balance of power needed to achieve our aims?

I spent the night at the sit-in outside the DNC in Chicago as endorsements poured in from civil rights organizations, unions like the UAW, and elected officials like AOC and Summer Lee. Senators like Dick Durbin and Elizabeth Warren made calls on our behalf—yet it wasn’t enough. The cold realities of power set in.

Maybe I fell into a form of liberalism believing that moral suasion, amplified by mainstream media, could shift Democratic Party leadership. But what we lacked, ultimately, was real political power. Decision-makers at the DNC and Harris campaign would face backlash from the donor class, Jewish communal institutions, and the vast majority of House and Senate Democrats accountable to those power centers. Our side wasn’t strong enough to counter them.

The gap between our aspirations and our power is painfully clear. It cannot be bridged by simply mobilizing harder or shouting louder. We need a more strategic approach that understands and seeks to reshape the political structures influencing U.S. policy on Israel. 

How do we prevent what happened to Bowman and Bush from happening again? How do we shift the positions of Democrats like Greg Meeks, Grace Meng, Adriano Espaillat, and Hakeem Jeffries? Do we raise $20 million for each district and primary each one of them? Without a clear assessment and theory of the case, we might as well pack up and go home. Because I’m not sure louder and larger protests are going to work. I’m not sure having a better press release is going to work or a deeper alignment among leftist groups or a more incendiary anti-imperialist statement is going to work. 

Just last week, I saw a small protest outside Hakeem Jeffries’ office—10-15 people from a human rights group, most of whom were not Black. It was a reminder of the gap between our ambitions and our on-the-ground power. To shift Jeffries’ position, we would likely need to out-organize AIPAC’s donors, mobilize Black organizations in his district. Otherwise, what is the point of showing up at his office with 15 people? It reveals something about ourselves. These paths are daunting but essential. We need to be clear-eyed about the distance between where we are and where we need to be.

Despite our failures, we have had some successes. This year, eight major labor unions and the NAACP endorsed restrictions on U.S. arms to Israel. This is a historic achievement. 

And yet, we’ve seen some success. Eight major labor unions and the NAACP endorsed restrictions on U.S. arms to Israel this year. It’s a significant step, but it must translate into sustained pressure on Biden and Harris. Even if Harris wins, it’s unclear whether groups will maintain pressure when other priorities come into play. Many organizations have lost funding simply for supporting restrictions on U.S. weapons to Israel. Do we have the infrastructure to back them up when the pressure mounts?

A medium-term horizon is clear, something like: Senators Ossoff and Warnock, representing Jewish and Black voices in the Democratic mainstream, delivering landmark speeches from Congress. They would likely call for ending weapons to Israel’s military rule while supporting Israel's security, right to exist, and the Iron Dome, rejecting offensive weapons that violate U.S. and international laws. Achieving even this minimal push remains a distant reality.

There are no shortcuts. This is the hard, slow work of politics. We must accept our limits and confront them, brick by brick. It’s not about Harris; it’s about us, our persistence, and our willingness to engage with power as it is. Only then can we reshape it.

The movement’s biggest breakthrough came when Biden announced on CNN he would withhold weapons over Rafah, but it was short-lived. Pro-Israel and Jewish organizations quickly mobilized, applying overwhelming pressure on White House staffers and Congress. Despite Biden’s initial stance, the opposition’s strength in the power centers of Washington—a clear “80-20” split, including most Democratic members of Congress—reveal our lack of relationships and infrastructure to defend the win, forcing the administration to backtrack. Challenging Netanyahu and AIPAC carried more political risk than reward, and Biden—unlike Obama during the Iran nuclear deal—has been reluctant to pick that fight.

The balance of power was clear. Biden ultimately chose the path of least resistance, revealing how deeply entrenched the current dynamics are.

Let’s be clear: it’s not about Harris. It’s about us. It’s about what we build—step by step, election by election—and creating an infrastructure the Democratic Party cannot ignore: voters, donors, and institutions.

This is hard work. It’s painful, slow, and full of setbacks. But this is politics and organizing, and it’s the work we must commit to. We must be serious about the distance between here and there—because it’s the only way forward.