Barnes’s Bid Reignites Leftist Chaos in Crucial Wisconsin Race

Paul Riverbank, 12/2/2025Mandela Barnes shakes up Wisconsin’s Democratic primary as symbolism and strategy clash in politics.

Just a couple years back, Barnes rolled the dice against Republican Sen. Ron Johnson. Here’s what’s seared into memory for plenty of Democrats: Barnes ended up lagging about 50,000 votes behind Evers in that same election cycle. That gap, though not colossal, sent a chill through party strategists, many of whom started repeating a simple message—proceed with caution.

Editorial boards chimed in, too. The Milwaukee Courier, ever direct, nearly pleaded with party leaders: “Democrats can’t afford to lose in 2026.” They weren’t talking in code—the paper didn’t shy away from highlighting Barnes’ past defeats as a cautionary tale. Meanwhile, The New York Times, a daily seldom short on opinions, suggested Barnes might be better off sitting out this round.

But risk, as the saying goes, isn’t always a deterrent. On Tuesday, Barnes unveiled his own bid for the big chair. He led with family legend—a union card-carrying household, blue collar through and through. His campaign video painted a vivid picture: a child of Milwaukee, carrying the hopes and worries of working people. National themes cropped up instantly, too. Barnes didn’t mince words about Donald Trump, describing him as a master of “distraction and chaos,” keen to sidestep responsibility. He argued that Trump’s focus spells “lower taxes for billionaires, higher prices for working people”—an old populist dividing line, dusted off and made new.

The field Barnes jumps into is anything but empty. At last count: eight names. David Crowley, an executive with Milwaukee County roots; Francesca Hong, a State Representative who moonlights as a chef and activist; Missy Hughes—known for her economic work more than campaign trail charisma; ex-Rep. Brett Hulsey; State Sen. Kelda Roys; Ryan Strnad; and Sara Rodriguez, the current lieutenant governor, likely inheriting some of Evers’ network. The primary next August will be bruising, as primaries in this state often are—brimming with sharp elbows and brisk debates about party identity.

Not everyone’s convinced Barnes is the answer. One commentator flat-out called him a “Leftist, a radical progressive—think cashless bail, gun control, climate-change bills.” That brand of politics inspires loyalty in some and skepticism in others—especially in the suburbs and small towns far from Milwaukee’s liberal pulse. For supporters, however, Barnes remains a rare, authentic progressive—someone who puts labor rights and climate front and center, unfiltered. The real question: Can he weld his diverse support into a coalition big enough to win?

While Wisconsin’s Democrats debated their future, national headlines briefly veered to something surprisingly personal—a pop icon’s swipe at presidential symbolism. Madonna, no stranger to activism, aimed a pointed barb at Donald Trump. Posting on Instagram, she lamented that Trump had “announced that World AIDS Day should no longer be acknowledged.” In her words: “To ask the general public to pretend it never happened is ridiculous… I refuse to acknowledge that these people have died in vain.”

This wasn’t just a celebrity’s lament. The accusation followed reports that the State Department would not formally mark World AIDS Day, breaking a stretch of tradition dating back to 1988—a subtle but telling departure from the custom of presidential recognition. The administration’s response was brisk. Tommy Pigott, deputy spokesperson at the State Department, argued that “an awareness day is not a strategy,” emphasizing instead their work in forging partnerships overseas to "save lives and increase responsibility," as he put it.

From the White House briefing room, spokesman Kush Desai offered another angle: the administration was “implementing a global health strategy,” citing progress through government programs and touting the FDA’s recent greenlight for a twice-yearly HIV prevention shot—a collaboration with Gilead Sciences, reputed to be close to 100% effective.

However, numbers never tell the whole tale. Though some Republicans eyed cuts to global AIDS funding, Congress largely stood firm, preserving existing dollars. Yet the argument was no longer about funding alone. What seems to sting activists and advocates most was the shift in symbolism—the fading spotlight on a day that, for many, stands as a hard-earned marker of progress and memory.

Both the state-level dogfight in Wisconsin and the national swirl over World AIDS Day underscore how much weight is carried by both action and acknowledgment—by what’s legislated, and by what’s simply observed. For Barnes, unifying a split party could prove as arduous as winning over a skeptical voter bloc in November. For those in Washington, debates may hinge not just on policies or statistics, but on the rituals and reminders that define public priorities.

Politics rarely offers tidy endings. As these skirmishes play out—from Madison to Capitol Hill—the contours of the coming battles are being drawn, gently now, but soon to be hard-fought.

There’s an old joke among Wisconsin political reporters: when Mandela Barnes walks into the arena, the spotlight somehow burns hotter—whether the crowd is cheering or side-eyeing. Barnes, who once stood onstage beside Governor Tony Evers as his lieutenant, is stepping forward again. This time, his sights are set on the governor’s mansion.Just a couple years back, Barnes rolled the dice against Republican Sen. Ron Johnson. Here’s what’s seared into memory for plenty of Democrats: Barnes ended up lagging about 50,000 votes behind Evers in that same election cycle. That gap, though not colossal, sent a chill through party strategists, many of whom started repeating a simple message—proceed with caution.Editorial boards chimed in, too. The Milwaukee Courier, ever direct, nearly pleaded with party leaders: “Democrats can’t afford to lose in 2026.” They weren’t talking in code—the paper didn’t shy away from highlighting Barnes’ past defeats as a cautionary tale. Meanwhile, The New York Times, a daily seldom short on opinions, suggested Barnes might be better off sitting out this round.But risk, as the saying goes, isn’t always a deterrent. On Tuesday, Barnes unveiled his own bid for the big chair. He led with family legend—a union card-carrying household, blue collar through and through. His campaign video painted a vivid picture: a child of Milwaukee, carrying the hopes and worries of working people. National themes cropped up instantly, too. Barnes didn’t mince words about Donald Trump, describing him as a master of “distraction and chaos,” keen to sidestep responsibility. He argued that Trump’s focus spells “lower taxes for billionaires, higher prices for working people”—an old populist dividing line, dusted off and made new.The field Barnes jumps into is anything but empty. At last count: eight names. David Crowley, an executive with Milwaukee County roots; Francesca Hong, a State Representative who moonlights as a chef and activist; Missy Hughes—known for her economic work more than campaign trail charisma; ex-Rep. Brett Hulsey; State Sen. Kelda Roys; Ryan Strnad; and Sara Rodriguez, the current lieutenant governor, likely inheriting some of Evers’ network. The primary next August will be bruising, as primaries in this state often are—brimming with sharp elbows and brisk debates about party identity.Not everyone’s convinced Barnes is the answer. One commentator flat-out called him a “Leftist, a radical progressive—think cashless bail, gun control, climate-change bills.” That brand of politics inspires loyalty in some and skepticism in others—especially in the suburbs and small towns far from Milwaukee’s liberal pulse. For supporters, however, Barnes remains a rare, authentic progressive—someone who puts labor rights and climate front and center, unfiltered. The real question: Can he weld his diverse support into a coalition big enough to win?While Wisconsin’s Democrats debated their future, national headlines briefly veered to something surprisingly personal—a pop icon’s swipe at presidential symbolism. Madonna, no stranger to activism, aimed a pointed barb at Donald Trump. Posting on Instagram, she lamented that Trump had “announced that World AIDS Day should no longer be acknowledged.” In her words: “To ask the general public to pretend it never happened is ridiculous… I refuse to acknowledge that these people have died in vain.”This wasn’t just a celebrity’s lament. The accusation followed reports that the State Department would not formally mark World AIDS Day, breaking a stretch of tradition dating back to 1988—a subtle but telling departure from the custom of presidential recognition. The administration’s response was brisk. Tommy Pigott, deputy spokesperson at the State Department, argued that “an awareness day is not a strategy,” emphasizing instead their work in forging partnerships overseas to "save lives and increase responsibility," as he put it.From the White House briefing room, spokesman Kush Desai offered another angle: the administration was “implementing a global health strategy,” citing progress through government programs and touting the FDA’s recent greenlight for a twice-yearly HIV prevention shot—a collaboration with Gilead Sciences, reputed to be close to 100% effective.However, numbers never tell the whole tale. Though some Republicans eyed cuts to global AIDS funding, Congress largely stood firm, preserving existing dollars. Yet the argument was no longer about funding alone. What seems to sting activists and advocates most was the shift in symbolism—the fading spotlight on a day that, for many, stands as a hard-earned marker of progress and memory.Both the state-level dogfight in Wisconsin and the national swirl over World AIDS Day underscore how much weight is carried by both action and acknowledgment—by what’s legislated, and by what’s simply observed. For Barnes, unifying a split party could prove as arduous as winning over a skeptical voter bloc in November. For those in Washington, debates may hinge not just on policies or statistics, but on the rituals and reminders that define public priorities.Politics rarely offers tidy endings. As these skirmishes play out—from Madison to Capitol Hill—the contours of the coming battles are being drawn, gently now, but soon to be hard-fought.