Could oyster farmer with a Nazi tattoo scandal be Democrats’ new champion?

A gruff oyster farmer who only recently got rid of his Nazi-style tattoo is the unlikely face of the Democrats’ bid to seize the Senate from President Donald Trump’s Republicans — and recover working-class voters.

That a man like Graham Platner finds himself on the front line of the fight for national power in the United States says a lot about a Democratic Party trying to find its way out of the wilderness.

Democrats are bullish about winning the House of Representatives in November’s midterm elections. But the Senate — and ability to wield real power during Trump’s last two years — is a far tougher challenge.

Enter Platner, a 41-year-old former Marine who talks movingly of his opposition to war after serving in Afghanistan and Iraq. He is targeting a key Senate seat in Maine, where longtime Republican incumbent Susan Collins is seen as vulnerable.

Virtually unknown a year ago, Platner has barnstormed across Maine, delivering a feisty, anti-establishment message.

Revelations that he had a skull tattoo similar to a Nazi symbol, as well as strings of troubling past social media posts about sexual assault and gays, failed to stop him.

On Thursday, Platner’s heavyweight rival for the Democratic nomination, current state Governor Janet Mills, threw in the towel. Now, he’ll be trying to dethrone 73-year-old Collins in the election.

“Thank you all for believing,” Platner posted in a video highlighting working-class supporters like fishermen and nurses who back “changing our politics.”

Andrew Koneschusky, head of public relations firm Beltway Advisors, said the success of Platner’s insurgency reflects wider hunger.

“Voters want authenticity,” he told AFP. “They don’t want robotic poll-tested candidates anymore.”

Authenticity or liability?

For years, Democratic activists have been clamoring for everyman-candidates — populists with blue collar backgrounds who can talk to regular folk, especially non-college-educated white men. It’s natural Democratic territory that Trump and his hard-right MAGA coalition have done much to poach.

Platner, with his war record, oyster farmer’s gnarled hands, and plain talk, seemed to fit the bill.

But there were problems.

That tattoo and the social media posts — which Platner explains respectively as the result of a misguided outing during his Marines days and dark post-combat rants — highlighted the risk of running untested candidates.

And several Democratic grandees like Chuck Schumer, the party’s leader in the Senate, pushed for Mills as the safer choice.

But polling showed voters were adamant: at 78, Mills literally represented the old guard and the party base wants to move on.

“Voters don’t like it when establishment figures anoint a candidate,” Koneschusky said.

Searching for a big tent

Third Way, a think tank pushing for more centrist Democratic platforms, says the party needs to do better at accepting candidates who don’t fit in normal liberal boxes.

A Gallup poll last year showed that 45 percent of Democrats or Democrat-leaning independents wanted the party to become more moderate, up 11 percentage points from 2021.

That search is taking Democrats in many directions.

Another new candidate in the Platner-mold is burly Pennsylvania firefighter Bob Brooks, who is running for Congress.

He too is touted as appealing to working-class voters but ran into trouble from liberal activists over past comments defending gun ownership in the wake of a mass shooting — a hugely sensitive issue.

Brooks quickly apologized and admitted to saying “a few stupid things.”

But figures like Abigail Spanberger and Mikie Sherill, who convincingly won governorship races in Virginia and New Jersey last year, come from the national security world and pride themselves on centrism.

And then there’s James Talarico, running for a Senate seat in ultra-conservative Texas.

Another unknown outside his home state until recently, Talarico has become a Democratic star by taking on Republicans at their own game — by making his Christian faith the cornerstone of his politics.

The Bible-quoting 36-year-old faces a huge challenge in Texas.

But “if anybody can do it,” said Matt Bennett at Third Way, “it’s him.”