Chris Abraham

1 Jesus went to the Mount of Olives. 2 But early in the morning he arrived again in the temple area, and all the people started coming to him, and he sat down and taught them. 3 Then the scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery and made her stand in the middle. 4 They said to him, “Teacher, this woman was caught in the very act of committing adultery. 5 Now in the law, Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?” 6 They said this to test him, so that they could have some charge to bring against him. Jesus bent down and began to write on the ground with his finger. 7 But when they continued asking him, he straightened up and said to them, “Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” 8 Again he bent down and wrote on the ground. 9 And in response, they went away one by one, beginning with the elders. So he was left alone with the woman before him. 10 Then Jesus straightened up and said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” 11 She replied, “No one, sir.” Then Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you. Go, (and) from now on do not sin any more.”

Every time the left tightens its purity tests, it doesn’t just punish individuals—it exiles whole constituencies and cannibalizes its own coalition. Chavez is simply the latest flashpoint. The underlying pattern is what matters. When a figure tied to labor identity gets publicly stripped and discarded, the signal doesn’t land as “we have standards.” It lands as: you are disposable. And workers notice.

Union members, tradespeople, and rank-and-file labor aren’t reading this through elite moral frameworks. They’re reading it as a hierarchy: identity politics and ideological compliance now outrank bread-and-butter worker solidarity. That may feel righteous in the moment, but it is politically radioactive. People do not stay in coalitions where they feel one misstep—real or alleged—can get them erased.

So they don’t argue. They don’t reform. They leave.

And when they leave, they don’t drift into some neutral holding area. They get absorbed into the only coalition explicitly signaling, “we’ll take you as you are.” That’s the MAGA big tent. Not because it’s perfect, but because it doesn’t present itself as a tribunal waiting to expel them.

This is how you lose a generation of workers. The left keeps treating coalition politics like a moral sorting machine instead of a numbers game. It burns down imperfect allies in pursuit of ideological purity, then acts surprised when the ashes don’t vote. Worse, it keeps doing this in highly visible, symbolic cases that ripple outward far beyond the individual involved.

Call it what it is: cannibalization.

And cannibal movements don’t win durable power. They shrink, radicalize, and fracture until they’re left preaching to the already convinced. Meanwhile, the people they pushed out don’t disappear—they realign.

If the goal is to permanently cede working-class loyalty, this is a flawless strategy. If the goal is to win and govern, it’s catastrophic.

Mercantilism was a 16th–18th century economic theory and policy where European nations sought to maximize wealth—primarily gold and silver—by maximizing exports and minimizing imports, creating a state-driven “zero-sum” game of competition. Key features included heavy protectionism, colonial exploitation to secure raw materials, and promoting a favorable trade balance to build national power.