Every summer my husband and I pack our suitcases, load our kids into the car, and drive from tense, crowded New York City to my family's cottage in Maine. It's on an island, with stretches of sea and sandy beaches, rocky coasts, and pine trees. We barbecue, swim, lie around, and try to do nothing.
A social democratic party without deep roots in the working class movement would quickly fade into an unrepresentative intellectual sect.
The planet will survive. Whether we get to be here and enjoy it, or enjoy life as we've known it, is what's questionable.