If We Don’t Know Why We’re Gathering, Maybe We Shouldn’t

The Political Theater of Progressive Staff Conferences

“Plan your gathering only if you have a unique disputable purpose — otherwise make it a casual social gathering or give people their time back.”

— Priya Parker, The Art of Gathering

I’m the executive director of Donor Organizer Hub, an organization that trains volunteer fundraisers and staff organizers at movement conferences year-round. I’ve noticed a real uptick in gatherings this year. I get why — we’re living through an authoritarian crisis and a loneliness epidemic — but still, I keep coming back to the same question: we’re gathering more than ever, but for what?

I say this lovingly, as someone who genuinely enjoys these spaces. I schmooze. I see old friends. I learn a few things. But if I’m honest, most conferences in the progressive movement are indistinguishable from each other. They’re 90-100% panels and keynotes. The so-called “skills sessions” are generally webinars, but with chairs. There’s little real strategy development happening.

And look, the hallway magic is real. It’s where great conversations happen. But if we’re putting on political theater just for the excuse of hallway chatter, we could save a lot of money by booking a conference room for the same twenty people instead of renting out a convention center.

For one organization that recently held their annual conference considered a staple to their base building efforts, feedback from one attendee I spoke with was: “It was nice for me to hang out with the same 10 friends I guess, but no way in hell I’m inviting newbies here, so what are we doing?”

I call on event organizers and attendees to ask what these gatherings are meant to do. Are we developing strategy? Building skills? Actually converting the people on our email lists and at our rallies into a base that grows our power? Meeting new people? Or are we trying to feel less alone, keep ourselves plugged into the same professional-middle-class circuit of panels and happy hours, and comfort ourselves with the same dozen faces we see at every conference?

The Reckoning Questions

These are the questions I’d start with before booking another ballroom:

• Why are we paying for staff to fly and stay in hotels for conferences that build no strategy and very few skills?

• What is the follow-through plan for afterward, both from event organizers and attendees?

• What is the purpose of this event? If it’s not for something additive (connecting new people, learning something that you couldn’t do elsewhere, brainstorming with people you don’t normally collaborate with), then what are you hoping to achieve?

And questions for staff mulling whether to attend an upcoming conference: not only what will you get out of attending, but what will you bring back? What will you train, share, or activate inside your base? If the answer is “mostly some photos and a few new friends,” we should think about whether the trip was worth the collective resources.

The Bougie + Homogeneous Problem

Most conferences in our ecosystem gather 100-200 people. Netroots Nation, the largest progressive conference in the world, hosts around 3,000. In comparison, Turning Point USA’s annual mega-conference brings in over 13,000. This comparison isn’t about envy; it’s about purpose. Are we designing gatherings to grow our base or to perform our belonging with familiar faces?

There’s also a quieter story underneath: the professional-middle-class mobility of movement staff. The hotels, airfare, and happy hours create a lifestyle loop that’s not even career development. It’s personal enrichment.

And I say that lovingly. I started my career as an investment banker on Wall Street (please, don’t cancel me) after growing up in rural America so humble that the Taco Bell opening generated a 5-hour line that I waited in. I fully remember the highs of steakhouse dinners and taking home the caviar my boss didn’t want. But we’re supposed to be building mass movements for the many, not upward class mobility for the few.

I also say this as a proud member of Unfortunately Not a Sound Bath, a community that exists precisely because so many of us are hungry for honesty about how our work can slide from collective power-building into self-soothing. There’s a difference between building power and building comfort.

Who Isn’t on the Invite List

Here’s a reality check from my own corner of the movement: of the hundreds of volunteer fundraising leaders we’ve trained at Donor Organizer Hub, zero have ever attended Netroots Nation in person. A few have joined the virtual option, but most tell me the same thing: they don’t think it’s for them. Many also couldn’t afford it or take off work. And these conferences are overwhelmingly during the week day, multi-day, and in expensive cities.

That gap says a lot about who these gatherings are designed for. If the conferences meant to build our movements aren’t drawing in the very volunteers organizers and community leaders who make these movements possible, then we’re mistaking internal circulation for expansion.

Until we build intentional on-ramps like travel stipends, first-timer scholarships, co-led sessions, and buddy pairings, we’ll keep holding spaces that feel like reunions instead of recruitment.

Glimpses of What Works

Netroots Nation has many bright spots, including its volunteer program. Will Easton, who runs it, builds an experience where everyone has a meaningful role, clear tasks, and genuine fun. It feels like purpose, not pageantry.

Another example: Stories + Money = Change, hosted by Innovative Fundraising. About 100 participants, all sessions skill-based, and one short networking happy hour. This year, they made the strategic decision to run it every other year to give people real training without putting annual strain on organizations’ budgets. Imagine that: an event intentionally designed to not be a yearly ritual.

Another bright spot is the Changemaker Skills Camp, co-hosted by The Movement Cooperative and State Voices, which merged their previously separate convenings into one immersive experience. It’s a weeklong deep dive into concrete skills and a model for how combining forces can create richer, more useful spaces for movement staff.

Although not a conference, Unfortunately Not a Sound Bath has a unique disputable purpose to each of its gatherings. We meet on Zoom twice monthly to discuss a right-wing podcast episode in small groups with full share-outs afterward. The norms for these discussions are clear: we’re focusing on what we can learn and adapt from the messaging and organizing behind each episode, not on how much we can’t stand X individual or Y viewpoint. Where there is a critical mass of members, there are regional in-person happy hours focused on social connection. The social connection feeds back into commitment to attending and volunteering at the Zoom meetings.

What We Could All Do Differently

Name your disputable purpose. As Priya Parker says, ask “why?” until you land on what’s truly needed. What can’t we do on Zoom? If it’s panels and slide decks, those belong on Zoom. If it’s strategizing across organizations, design for that.

Gather less often, with more intention. Annual doesn’t automatically mean effective. Every-other-year models give people time to apply what they learned before doing another round of conference karaoke.

Merge where missions overlap. If two conferences share 70% of the same purpose, pool them. Merge attendee lists, funding, and airtime. Deeper impact looks like cross-pollination that advances both shared strategy and caucus time, not duplicated panels.

Expect staff to share back. If someone attends, build in the expectation (and time) for them to debrief and train others. A movement conference should multiply skills, not hoard them in one suitcase.

Most importantly: create openings for volunteers and newcomers. If our gatherings only make sense to people who already have name badges, we’re doing it wrong. Build intentional on-ramps for volunteers, donors, and people outside of staff circles. Not as tokens or “community panels,” but as full participants. Reserve a percentage of spots for first-timers, offer travel support, and pair veteran attendees with newcomers. A movement conference should grow the movement, not just reconvene its middle management.