After a presidential election cycle once again defined by trench warfare in a few swing states, an unlikely insurgent in deep-red Nebraska could have a major impact on national politics come January. Dan Osborn, an independent candidate and union leader who led a strike at Kellogg’s Omaha plant in 2021, has gained momentum in his bid to unseat two-term Republican senator Deb Fischer. The latest polls have him within the margin of error or even ahead, challenging both parties’ assumptions about the state’s electorate. The contest is a rare juxtaposition in U.S. politics. While grassroots activists have long fantasized about making inroads in the farm belt, Osborn is one of the few candidates in recent years to come within striking distance of an upset.
If he pulls it off, Osborn may well prevent the GOP from capturing a slim majority in the Senate. That would make him an unusual power broker in an era of frequent gridlock, stopgap spending bills, and perennial right-wing threats to shut down the federal government. Though Osborn could be denied committee assignments if he follows through with his pledge not to caucus with either party, his strong backing from organized labor ought to make him a coveted vote for Democrats, who will be desperate to either forge a legislative majority under Kamala Harris or block the reactionary plans of a second Trump administration.
Osborn’s steadfast independence is no doubt part of his allure among progressives who recognize that the Democratic Party is on life support in broad swaths of the country. His sudden ascent has captured the attention of those fatigued by the strange muddle of the Biden years. Hope for a left-wing populism that would shake up the two-party system faded after Bernie Sanders’s 2016 primary campaign. Since then, progressives in the vein of Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez have electrified sympathetic media but made limited headway outside of coastal cities. Meanwhile, Bidenism—a complex fusion of economic nationalism, “supply-side progressivism,” and revamped antitrust action—remains a nebulous governing philosophy with no clear heirs among congressional Democrats.
This has left a void once filled by producer-populists, union allies, and anti-monopolists from the greater Midwest and the South. While not all were stalwart Democrats—some, like George W. Norris, Nebraska’s most famous senator, were progressive Republicans, while others were outsiders propelled by fusion-voting—the realignments of the early twentieth century mostly brought these tendencies into the Democratic tent. Now, outside of niche policy circles, they are largely dormant. Amid all the talk about rediscovering its New Deal heritage, the Democratic Party’s estrangement from the working-class heartland has only intensified.
Osborn is betting he can revive that older tradition of blue-collar populism predicated on basic economic justice. As left-leaning pundits and policy wonks cast about for rhetoric that appeals to disaffected working-class voters, Osborn speaks the direct language of reclaiming economic power for the little guy. A father of three who trained as a steamfitter after being fired by Kellogg’s, Osborn is authentic in ways figures from both major parties struggle to imitate.
In interviews and sharp ads, he’s underscored his independence while ridiculing Fischer’s corporate backing. In one ad, he portrays her with a NASCAR-style jacket that displays all her sponsors. But Osborn doesn’t cut the Democrats any slack either. In his view, the “corporate agenda” controls the two-party system, leaving the task of reform to those genuinely willing to defy it.
This militancy is tempered by a soft-spoken manner, pledges to “compromise,” and down-to-earth appeals to economic freedom. Osborn stresses solidarity between wage-earners and small businesses in the fight against corporate domination, as well as the need for greater investment in social goods like public schools. But he is generally focused on ensuring workers can simply provide for themselves and their families as they see fit.
Osborn’s economic populism combines the communitarian sentiment of the labor movement with a Jacksonian ethos of self-determination; his message is attuned to Nebraskans who recoil at the idea of being dominated, whether by large multinationals or an unaccountable federal bureaucracy partly captured by lobbyists. His lack of firm ideological mooring should not be taken to reflect a weak grasp of how monopoly power radiates through the economy. Echoing the “neo-Brandeisian” movement led by Lina Khan, chair of the Federal Trade Commission, Osborn has denounced “price-gouging” by grocery chains like Kroger—a stance that could play well with rural communities, which suffered disproportionately from Covid-era supply-chain shocks.
In other ways Osborn’s platform is more tailored to his potential constituents. He champions a federal “right-to-repair” law that would unyoke farmers and mechanics from contracts whose restrictions on independent repair work on patented equipment furnish proprietary rents for manufacturers. (This past spring, Joseph Morelle of New York and Marie Gluesenkamp Perez of Washington, two House Democrats from working-class districts, introduced “The Fair Repair Act.”) The platform similarly attacks enormous subsidies for Big Pharma while advocating tax cuts for small businesses and the middle class, particularly on workers’ overtime pay. As a Navy veteran, meanwhile, Osborn has lamented food-stamp dependency among U.S. servicemembers, calling for increased salaries.
On still other fronts, Osborn sounds more like a moderate liberal in the days before hyper-polarization and partisan sorting along regional lines. Although he’s a Catholic, he opposes a national abortion ban and supports restoring the standard set by Roe v. Wade, but he is also firmly behind the Second Amendment, justifying both positions with an emphasis on freedom. At the same time, he links his support for tighter border control to preventing an oversupply of “cheap labor with no rights.” This argument was common among union-aligned, protectionist Democrats twenty years ago, but most progressives now equate it with America First nativism. Still, Osborn’s economic message is front and center: the goal is to help rebuild forgotten communities by lifting up workers.
Osborn’s politics would have naturally resonated with the Democratic coalition of an earlier epoch. A major part of Wilsonian and New Deal liberalism was deploying regulation to stimulate, but not necessarily control, economic development, particularly in agrarian regions. When combined, federal intervention and growth-oriented machine politics molded an electorate that could be either radical or “pro-market” depending on the issue. No matter what, however, it loathed being held hostage to Eastern banks’ high interest rates, railroad titans, or union-busting company towns. Osborn is effectively channeling that vision in his attacks on a system that, through mergers, offshoring, and regulatory capture, has shrunk the middle class and cut off paths to upward mobility for hourly workers.
While Osborn’s refrain may sound like vintage Elizabeth Warren, it is seldom heard in places where Democrats have been reduced to token opposition. But herein lies the source of ambivalence among partisan Democrats worried about what an Osborn victory would mean. Osborn emphatically does not want to be depicted as anything but a blue-collar independent who will answer to regular Nebraskans. Back in May, he rebuffed the active support of the state Democratic Party, which had declined to run its own challenger against Fischer. Its chair, Jane Kleeb, a prominent environmental activist who has struggled to improve the party’s fortunes, then briefly threatened to run a write-in candidate in a statement that accused Osborn of betraying their anti-Fischer coalition.
However calculated, distancing himself from Democrats probably plays to Osborn’s benefit. Nebraska last elected a Democrat to statewide office in 2006, when it rewarded Sen. Ben Nelson, an inveterate centrist and former governor, with a second term. (Fischer won Nelson’s seat in 2012 after he chose not run for reelection.) Fending off attacks by Fischer’s campaign that he is a “Bernie Bro” or a covert “radical Democrat” hoping to “fool” Nebraskans, Osborn maintains that he has been an independent since he first registered to vote.
Osborn’s candidacy is a quiet indictment of the Democratic Party. First of all, it shows that the Democratic brand has become an albatross in states with large rural populations. Rather than openly align himself with a handful of Democrats or an intellectual current on the Left that recalls Nebraska’s own populist legacy, Osborn is going it alone on the premise that the national party is simply too discredited to be of use in this race. His decision also suggests that the party’s local infrastructure is so weakened that any organizational advantages were considered negligible.
Osborn’s repudiation of Democrats also casts doubt on the efficacy of President Biden’s legislative agenda. Despite enacting laws that go some way to redressing the impact on rural economies of NAFTA, the financialization of the economy, and the merger-friendly “consumer welfare standard” of antitrust enforcement, the national party’s standing remains weak in rural areas. The party has failed to back up promising policy changes with credible grassroots engagement. Indeed, to many inflation-weary households, unimpressed by solid economic growth and low unemployment, the party elite appear more technocratic and distant than ever. That, in turn, has made it easier for the Trump campaign, as well as more staid Republicans like Fischer, to stir up anxieties over immigration and transgender issues.
Osborn's independence means that, unlike endangered red-state Democrats such as Jon Tester, he need neither “own” nor “disavow” any part of Biden’s record. Having conducted over 140 town-hall events, Osborn’s main task until election day is to frame Fischer as an irredeemable creature of corporate interests and to persuade disaffected voters that his independence will be an asset in Washington.
Given that he must win over a chunk of conservatives—49 percent of Nebraska’s voters are registered Republicans while Democratic affiliation has waned—it is in his interest to steer clear of positions that don’t burnish his everyman image. That said, Osborn’s campaign has not always successfully skirted topics the Right would code as “woke.” When answering a question about racial disparities during a recent televised townhall, Osborn first called to end gerrymandering and criticized Kellogg’s two-tier wage system, noting that it hurt minority workers. But he then went on to say, weakly, that he would address these problems by introducing a “podcast” to boost “transparency.” Prodded by the moderator, he merely reiterated the point—a regrettable dodge in a state that is now almost a quarter nonwhite.
It appears, moreover, that the Osborn campaign is wary of becoming a darling of progressive media despite enjoying favorable coverage, including an early profile by The American Prospect. The attention showered on him in recent weeks has undoubtedly boosted his fundraising efforts, but to some voters it may validate Fischer’s claim that he’s a stalking horse for the liberal elite. But Osborn has thus far managed to have it both ways on the campaign trail. Despite his position on guns and immigration, he is indirectly backed by the Sixteen Thirty Fund, a liberal donor group, and recently held a virtual fundraiser with actress Julia Louis-Dreyfus.
The excitement around Osborn should not obscure the fact that he very much remains the underdog in this race. The nationalization of party politics has made split-ticket voting far less common, even in a state like Nebraska where a unique tradition of pragmatism and prairie populism endures. Ultimately, Osborn, who has a penchant for attacking career politicians, must judge whether he is in politics for the long haul. A close loss will force him to decide whether this campaign has laid credible groundwork for a second one; victory, though exhilarating for economic progressives near and far, will quickly give way to the realities of a system in which compromise is fraught and rarely rewarding.
Still, Osborn’s humble stand may just spark something greater, whatever his fate. Gathered in Omaha in 1892, the People’s Party declared in its first platform that “we have witnessed for more than a quarter of a century the struggles of the two great political parties for power and plunder, while grievous wrongs have been inflicted upon the suffering.” For many Americans, the charge could have been written yesterday. As this fearful decade grinds on, one suspects that both parties face a profound reckoning.
