Admitting it isn’t something that I’m proud of — in fact, I’m slightly ashamed — I’m a chronic night owl. There are nights when I fall asleep at the very hours many people rise to start their days.
Recently, during one of my usual late-night procrastination sessions, I was affected by the phenomenon of sleepiness I avoid so prolifically. As I was going to put my phone down, I saw a livestream airing from the Senate floor.
There, in the quiet hours of the night, was Sen. Cory Booker, D-N.J., delivering a fiery, impassioned speech against the Trump administration. It was startlingly electric and so full of urgency that I found myself wide awake again.
It struck me then — not just how rare that type of conviction has become in politics today, but how much the Democratic Party would benefit from more voices like his.
While technically not a traditional filibuster, Booker’s speech was the longest in the history of the Senate. The Senate doesn’t place limits on speaking time, so long as the speaker doesn’t take any breaks. Over the course of 25 hours, after fasting and dehydrating himself over the preceding days, that was what Booker did. He didn’t leave the podium once.
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The Democratic Party, after losing both the House and Senate, has struggled to effectively unite around a fight against what they have called a massive threat to American democracy. In an article by the New York Times, dozens of interviews with Democratic members of Congress highlight a political party with “no coherent message.”
One example of this moral deterioration was the pitiful showing at Donald Trump’s joint address to Congress in early March. Other than Rep. Al Green’s, D-Texas, brief vocal protesting, Democrats sat silently back in their seats. Occasionally, some meekly lifted paddles printed with phrases such as “False” and “Musk Steals.”
An attempt to fully boycott the speech across both congressional chambers and instead hold town halls with voters would have had a more meaningful impact. Instead, a few boycotted the speech, a few held up the aforementioned paddles and many just dissociated. This served as a direct metaphor for the current disorganization of Democratic members of Congress.
That’s the problem. The party has approached moments with proceduralism when what’s needed is principle. If this administration is the threat Democrats say it is, they need to step up and prove that to the voters who rejected them in November.
Booker’s speech cut through all of that. It contained the moral weight that the vacant expressions and hollow paddles so desperately lacked. It was a deliberate act of endurance, meant to emphasize what is needed — somebody to maximize their powers as a member of Congress and make noise.
He was trying to wake the country up, even if he had to stay awake himself to do it. Booker even acknowledged the inadequacy of his party’s actions in his speech when he asserted that “the Democratic Party has made terrible mistakes that gave a lane to this demagogue. I confess we all must look in the mirror and say ‘we will do better.’”
Booker’s speech was, at its core, a reminder of how powerful and deeply personal politics can become. If it were your elected representative holding the floor in protest of something you deeply opposed, you might feel a surge of pride — not because of the issue itself, but because they were fighting like they meant it. That’s the entire essence of a representative democracy — and the Democratic Party’s best chance at a comeback.
George is a senior in LAS.
