In politics, everything old is new again. For example, I immediately recognized Donald Trump’s “Make America Great Again” slogan the minute he started using it a few years before he ran for president. Trump did not originate that statement; instead, it was Ronald Reagan.
As I have admitted to in the past, I was enthralled with Ronald Reagan and had buttons, bumper stickers, and posters from his first campaign. By the end of his tenure, I had soured on him. And today, I am enthralled and excited by Pete Buttigieg. And since I have my advanced years and witness to history, I have a few thoughts about him.,
OK, back to Buttigieg. If memory of history serves me correctly, he seems to be dusting off Bill Clinton’s well-worn triangulation playbook from the 1990s and trying it on for size in our far more fractured 2025. His recent actions have made me think of that word, “triangulation,” again..
Triangulation, as Clinton’s then-adviser Dick Morris infamously coined it, was the idea that a politician could position themselves “above” the left and the right, borrowing a little from both to capture the great, exasperated middle. In an article from three years ago, Salon said triangulation was dead. But I’m not so sure I agree with that.
And here’s why. At this moment, in the most simplistic terms, because this could all shift, the electorate seems fractured, with a very progressive wing fawning over New York City Democratic mayoral candidate Zohran Mamdani, more moderate Dems liking Connecticut U.S. Sen. Chris Murphy, and the up-for-grabs independents and moderate Republicans souring on Trump. And depending on the day, maybe the latter favoring someone like Virginia Republican Gov. Glenn Youngkin?
Finally, there’s MAGA, which isn’t a variable in this dissection of factions. There’s only one person for them.
Triangulation did work in 1996, when Clinton, bruised from Democratic losses and public backlash, pivoted to “welfare reform,” embraced “tough on crime” rhetoric, and co-opted GOP talking points on fiscal responsibility to save his presidency. He gave Republicans just enough to disarm them, while keeping Democrats just loyal enough to stay afloat.
Fast-forward to today, and Buttigieg appears to be auditioning for the role of Clinton 2.0.
Since February, Buttigieg has become a master of the crossover message. For years, he’s been showing up repeatedly on Fox News, not to fight but to find “common ground.” He’s acknowledged “fairness concerns” around transgender athletes in women’s sports, earning praise from corners of the right while making LGBTQ+ activists squirm.
He’s spoken about how Democrats are too attached to a “failing” status quo and need to better understand the frustrations of working-class Americans, even those who voted for Donald Trump. He sort of hemmed and hawed around the idea that Democrats shouldn’t try to restore everything Trump ruined. Maybe they should keep the Department of Education closed or use it in a different way.
Not reversing some of Trump’s actions might make Republicans smile, but Democrats don’t want any part of Trump being right. And to me, Buttigieg’s messaging has all the hallmarks of triangulation.
But should this approach give Democrats pause? One of the biggest lessons from the 2024 election, a painful one for many of us in the party, is that chasing Republican crossover votes is a risky and often fruitless strategy.
Vice President Kamala Harris’s presidential campaign leaned heavily on bipartisanship, with her even campaigning alongside Liz Cheney in key states. Many Democrats warned her not to do this, and rightly so.
There’s no doubt that alliance earned praise in Beltway circles; however, it left parts of the Democratic base feeling neglected and uninspired. In hindsight, at least to me, the Harris campaign spent more time trying to flip Never Trump conservatives than energizing younger voters, working-class communities, and core constituencies of color.
The result was a fractured turnout and a narrow, haunting defeat. We feel the sting each time Trump does something outrageous, illegal, or immoral.
Now Buttigieg seems poised to walk the same line, though arguably with more finesse. In April, Buttigieg appeared on Andrew Schulz’s “bro” loving podcast and earned rave reviews. The so-called bros have been dismissive of Democratic “wokeness,” one of their biggest gripes.
And as far back as 2019, many folks in the LGBTQ+ community have demanded more from Buttigieg, with some saying they weren’t going to vote for him just because he’s gay. His recent “fairness” comment about trans athletes won’t help him there.
But here’s what concerns me the most: 2025 isn’t 1996.
Clinton’s triangulation happened in a pre-Fox domination, pre-Twitter, pre-MAGA era. The stakes were different, and the opposition was by far less extreme. Clinton could co-opt Republican themes without legitimizing authoritarianism. Buttigieg, on the other hand, risks normalizing a party that has aligned itself with conspiracy theories, election denialism, and assaults on democratic norms.
And back to that “fairness” comment. When Buttigieg talks about “fairness” in women’s sports on Fox News, it may sound reasonable to suburban swing voters, but it gives oxygen to a culture war designed not to protect women but to erase transgender people.
When he says Democrats need to stop “talking down” to Trump voters, it may play well in purple states, but it also suggests that the real problem isn’t MAGA extremism but liberal tone.
To be fair, Buttigieg’s instincts aren’t entirely wrong. Democrats do need to find ways to reach beyond their base. They can’t afford to lose working-class white voters in central Michigan, bros in Virginia, or union dads in southwestern Pennsylvania.
And the other thing, Buttigieg is undeniably gifted. He’s smart, articulate, and unshakably calm. In chaotic times, he feels like a throwback to a saner, more measured politics.
Finally, I get why Buttigieg is trying to toe the line on issues and his outreach to factions in and outside the party. As a guy who spent 35 years in PR and worked on political campaigns, I think he does have the ability to tap into the concerns of the current political trifecta.
But Clinton’s triangulation came at a price, and so might Buttigieg’s.
Welfare “reform” decimated the social safety net. Crime bills turbocharged mass incarceration and arrests of people of color. And trying to outmaneuver Republicans on their own turf left Democrats playing defense for decades.
The triangulation strategy helped Clinton win, but it left the party ideologically gutted.
Democrats would do well to remember 2024. Harris’s bipartisan overtures didn’t bring Republican voters home, but they did leave Democratic ones wondering if the party still saw them.
If Democrats want to win in 2028, they need more than balance. They need boldness. They need moral clarity, not just political calculation. And they need more simplicity, like in the way Mamdani distilled his messaging down to effective sound bites.
Buttigieg can’t let the pursuit of crossover appeal dilute his principles. If he truly wants to be the next generation’s Clinton, he should remember both the triumphs and the regrets,of that legacy.
Because in today’s political climate, standing in the middle of the road doesn’t just get you noticed. It might get you run over. And that’s the last thing you want to see right now, if you’re a Buttigieg fan like me.
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This article originally appeared on Advocate: Is Pete Buttigieg taking a page from Bill Clinton of the 1990s and triangulating? And is that a bad thing?
