The Democrats keep putting women and people of colour in unwinnable seats

There is a pattern, once you see it, that is impossible to ignore. The Democratic party, a political entity that stakes its brand on progress and representation, has a habit of putting women and people of colour in unwinnable positions.

It’s a neat trick. A difficult election cycle looms, or a particular seat is a near-certain loss. The established, usually white and male, leadership takes a strategic step back. A ‘historic first’ candidate is found — a woman, a person of colour, ideally both — and propelled onto the ticket. Her nomination is celebrated as a victory in itself, a testament to the party’s modern values. The media writes glowing profiles. The fundraising emails fly.

Then, the candidate loses. The loss was, in most cases, baked in from the start. But the post-mortem does not focus on the impossible circumstances, the lack of institutional backing, or the flawed strategy handed down from on high. Instead, it atomises. The blame lands squarely on the candidate. She was ‘unlikeable’. He was ‘too radical’. Her ‘ambition’ was off-putting. The electorate, we are told, just wasn’t ready.

The candidate becomes a scapegoat, her career damaged. And the men who put her there? They remain. They keep their safe seats, their leadership positions, their media appointments. They pontificate on the loss, express their disappointment in the voters, and prepare to do it all again. The system shields the powerful, while the person brought in to represent ‘change’ takes the fall.

Hillary Clinton’s 2016 campaign is the canonical example. Following an eight-year, two-term Democratic presidency is a historically difficult task for any successor. She was handed a hospital pass. When she lost, analysis focused on her emails, her speaking fees, her supposed lack of charisma — anything but the party’s strategic failures or the rusted-out state of its political machinery in key states. She was the lightning rod, absorbing the blame that should have been shared across the entire party establishment.

The phenomenon is not limited to the top of the ticket. Look at the ‘sacrificial lambs’ put up in deep-red congressional districts. A young, brilliant woman of colour is run in a district the party hasn’t won since the 1970s. Her candidacy is hailed as brave and inspiring, but she is given little a fraction of the funding that flows to incumbents in safe seats. Her inevitable loss is chalked up to the district’s intransigence, not the party’s unwillingness to actually invest in winning.

This pattern mirrors a known corporate phenomenon: the ‘glass cliff’. Studies have shown for decades that women and members of minority groups are more likely to be appointed to precarious leadership positions when an organisation is in crisis. If they fail, the company’s poor performance is attributed to their leadership. If they succeed, they’ve performed a miracle. It is a high-risk, low-reward proposition designed to protect the status quo.

Kamala Harris’s vice presidency has been a masterclass in the glass cliff. She was handed a portfolio of the most intractable, thankless issues in American politics: the southern border and voting rights. These are not problems with clear solutions; they are political poison chalices. The design is clear. Any lack of immediate, miraculous progress can be laid at her feet, complicating any future ambitions she may have for higher office.

Placing a woman or a person of colour in a position designed for failure is not representation; it is the strategic management of failure.