Schumer Says Trump Is An Existential Threat—Then Surrenders Anyway

"Democracy is on the ballot"—so why are Democrats writing Trump a blank check?

In focus groups, voters don’t just see Democrats as out of touch. They see them as slow, weak, ineffective. Slugs. Snails. Sloths. Meanwhile, they describe Republicans as lions and sharks, as tigers on the attack—aggressive, dominant, and willing to fight for what they want. That perception gap is devastating in a moment of economic anxiety. When voters feel like they’re drowning under the cost of rent and groceries, they don’t want a party that explains why change is hard. They want a party that picks a fight and wins.

There’s a familiar script: Democrats lost, so they must cut deals. They lost, so they must accept the conditions set by the other side. They lost, so they must govern from the weakness of the minority. It’s a mechanistic, almost mathematical, theory of power—win elections, and you govern; lose elections, and you take what you can get.

But that’s not how Republicans operate. The GOP does not accept that governing is impossible from the minority. It does not assume political conditions, once set, must be obeyed. Quite the opposite: it treats politics as dynamic, conflict as a tool, and opposition as a mechanism to create leverage.

Democrats, meanwhile, refuse to play that game. Instead of wielding power, they retreat into a knee-jerk defense of institutions and proceduralism. Instead of using opposition to create pressure, they scold their base for being too uncompromising.

Progressive voters don’t control the party. They don’t dictate leadership, strategy, or decision-making. They are told to vote harder, accept half-measures, and be realistic—until the next election, when they are told, once again, that their demands are politically impossible.

If every demand is unrealistic and every fight unwinnable, then what, exactly, is the argument for Democratic governance?

Schumer’s Surrender

Look at the continuing resolution (CR) fight. House Republicans passed a stopgap bill filled with conservative policy riders and dared Senate Democrats to accept it. Schumer folded.

Matt Yglesias defended the move, arguing that Schumer “did the right thing” by keeping the government open, given the lack of good options. The premise: Democrats had no leverage. House Republicans controlled the process, Senate Democrats had no real way to fight back, and a shutdown would have hurt the country more than the GOP.

But this framing misunderstands power.

Bharat Ramamurti offers a better analogy: in poker, the best players are tight-aggressive—they pick their fights carefully, but once they commit, they play to win. Democrats, by contrast, are tight-passive—reluctant to engage and hesitant to go all-in, even when they have a strong hand.

It’s the political equivalent of a football team playing prevent defense with a slim lead—a strategy designed to avoid disaster but one that lets the other team march down the field unchallenged. Instead of trying to win, Democrats focus on not losing too badly. And predictably, that keeps leading to defeat.

This wasn’t a fight Democrats sought, but once it was forced on them, they had an opportunity to shape the terms.

Polling showed Republicans were vulnerable. The public was primed to blame them for a shutdown. Trump and Musk’s governance had been chaotic and unpopular. And the CR itself was a gift-wrapped attack line: “Republicans are threatening to shut down the government unless they get a blank check for Musk’s takeover.”

Instead of forcing Republicans to own their extremism, Schumer gave away one of the only pieces of leverage Democrats had before 2026.

This wasn’t about whether a shutdown was risk-free—no fight ever is. It was about whether Democrats were willing to impose a cost on their opponents for governing through blackmail. Instead, Schumer made the kind of move that tells Republicans they can keep pushing.

The Revolt Against Schumer

The backlash wasn’t just from progressives. Moderates were furious, too. House Democrats warned that Senate Democrats needed to start channeling the base’s anger—at Trump’s mass layoffs, his dismantling of key agencies, his attacks on the safety net—or risk ceding even more power to Trump and further demoralizing their voters.

Senate Democrats who backed the CR claimed they were protecting federal workers from a shutdown. But the American Federation of Government Employees (AFGE)—the union representing those very workers—urged them to vote no. AFGE warned that passing the bill would hand unchecked power to Musk and Trump to continue mass firings and dismantle agencies without congressional oversight. While Senate Democrats framed their vote as a safeguard, the union made clear that it enabled the ongoing purge of federal workers and the destruction of government institutions.

"With thousands of federal workers either fired, placed on administrative leave, or at immediate risk of losing their jobs, AFGE members have concluded that a widespread government shutdown has been underway since January 20 and will continue to spread whether senators vote yes or no on [the CR]," the union’s leadership wrote. While a formal government shutdown would indeed deprive remaining workers of a paycheck, if Congress passes the CR then "AFGE knows that DOGE will dramatically expand its terminations of federal workers and double down on its campaign to make federal agencies fail."

Sen. Jon Ossoff, one of the most vulnerable Senate Democrats in 2026, took a rare stand, announcing he would vote no on the House bill because it “irresponsibly fails to impose any constraints on the reckless and out-of-control Trump administration.”

Former Obama and Biden senior official Susan Rice was even blunter: “No self-respecting Democratic lawmaker who takes his or her responsibility to their constituents and the Constitution seriously can vote for this despicable Trump/Musk power grab CR.”

House Democrats vented their frustration at Schumer. “If Chuck Schumer can’t get us a better vote, he should resign,” one centrist Democrat told CNN. “What’s the plan? What’s the strategy? There isn’t one.”

Seth Moulton, a moderate from Massachusetts, summed it up: “Americans across the board are fed up with what Elon Musk and Donald Trump are doing. This is the only leverage we have. Americans want us to do something.”

“I’m pissed,” Rep. Jim McGovern told CNN after Schumer’s floor speech. “Maybe they’ll toughen up for the fight on reconciliation, I don’t know. … This guy [Trump] is ruining the country. And you know, I just expected more fight.”

Guy Cecil, former chief strategist for the pro-Hillary Clinton presidential super PAC, Priorities USA Action, said the “complete lack of strategy…is inexplicable, unacceptable, and deeply disappointing.”

For years, Schumer’s defenders have argued that he’s a skilled tactician, an institutionalist who knows how to cut deals, keep Democrats unified, and work the levers of power. A party leader who isn’t willing to fight when it matters most isn’t leading. He’s managing. And that’s not enough.

The First Rule of Stopping Authoritarians: Slow Them Down

The Republican shutdown threat wasn’t just about the budget—it was a calculated power grab to consolidate Musk and Trump’s control over the federal government. The first rule of stopping authoritarians is to gum up the works, slow them down, and make governing difficult—not accelerate their takeover.

This was the first real test of whether Democrats who spent the past year warning that “democracy is on the ballot” actually meant it. And they failed.

Some argue Democrats will have more leverage after the 2026 midterms. That’s laughable. Waiting for better terrain isn’t opposition politics—it’s surrender. Every fight forced on the GOP weakens their ability to govern by fiat. Schumer, instead, made their job easier—normalizing government-by-extortion and demoralizing voters in the process.

The Expired Mayonnaise Theory of Democratic Leadership

For weeks, Democratic leaders and pundits have argued that defending democracy, institutions, and norms is not enough—that the party must be populist, combative, and willing to reshape institutions to actually serve the people it claims to represent.

Yet, when confronted with a clear populist fight—billionaires Musk and Trump dismantling federal agencies and seizing private data—Senate Democrats folded. They framed their votes for the CR as a safeguard, even as the union representing federal workers warned it would accelerate their purge.

This is the contradiction at the heart of the Democratic Party: it cannot be populist because it is too wedded to defending institutions that are already failing. Republicans treat government as something to capture or demolish. Democrats act as if it must be preserved at all costs—even as it is hollowed out from within. The result is a party clinging to proceduralism while its opponents consolidate power.

Schumer’s failure wasn’t just tactical—it was a failure to grasp the stakes. If Democrats want to be the party of transformation, they cannot keep positioning themselves as caretakers of a collapsing system. Otherwise, the next time Republicans set another fire, Democrats will once again be debating whether they should even try to put it out.

And this goes beyond Schumer. In most democracies, party leaders step down after electoral defeats. In the U.S., they linger indefinitely—like an expired jar of mayonnaise in the fridge. Everyone knows it’s gone bad, but no one wants to be the one to throw it out.

Since 2017, Schumer has led Senate Democrats through cycles of defeat and tenuous power. But the deeper problem isn’t just him—it’s the party’s refusal to evolve, to make way for leadership that understands modern political combat.

If Schumer isn’t willing to fight, Democrats need leaders who are. Otherwise, the next time Republicans burn everything down, Democrats will once again be standing in the ashes, wondering whether they should have done something about it.

This isn’t a fight between left and center of the Democratic Party—it’s a fight between those clinging to power and those who deserve a chance to lead.

So which is it? Was democracy on the ballot this past November, or not? If Trump is an authoritarian, if his administration represents an existential threat to democracy, then the response should reflect that urgency—not just in campaign rhetoric but in actual governance. Fascists have won elections before; the ballot box alone does not inoculate a system against authoritarian rule. If Trump’s victory is just another transfer of power, then the alarmism was a lie. If it’s a crisis, then every decision must be weighed in those terms, including whether Democrats wield opposition power to disrupt his agenda rather than normalize it. You can’t have it both ways—either democracy is at stake, or it isn’t. If it is, then governing as if the institutions, norms, and rules remain unchanged is nothing short of complicity.