MLK talked about this phenomenon in his Letter from Birmingham Jail:
First, I must confess that over the past few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro’s great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen’s Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to “order” than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: “I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action”; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man’s freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a “more convenient season.” Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.
It’s one thing for cruel people to crave violence and want others to suffer and die out of mere hate. It’s another for the recent influx of @[email protected] liberals to smirk and condescend to people that have suffered, have had loved ones that suffered and even died, and tell them that they’re “insane” for not praising liberal half-measures that not only allowed suffering to expand but actually get worse than before those measures were ever put into place, all because of callous and cold mandates for treat access and “cool, calm, and collected” (fetish words for liberals) calculations to favor next quarter’s 
over millions of human lives.
It’s not just a covid thing, but that’s just a recent and glaring example that many of you fellow Hexbears have seen today alone.
Scratched liberals at least have some passion in their hatred. Unscratched liberals are so craven and coldly cruel that sometimes they disgust me more. 
Liberals? Oh, boy. They’re the political equivalent of a wet fart in a silent library – all noise, no substance. They strut around acting all high and mighty, preaching their “progressive” values, but when the shit hits the fan, they scatter faster than roaches in a filthy kitchen when you flip the light on.
It’s like they’ve got this fetish for half-assed measures. “Let’s make a change!” they cry, and then they put forth policies so watered down, you’d think they were serving drinks at a sleazy, overpriced dive bar. They love to “talk the talk”, but when it comes to walking? It’s like watching a drunk toddler trying to navigate a minefield.
Sometimes, you’ve got to wonder if their spines are made of goddamn jelly, wobbling to and fro, bending whichever way the wind blows. They’ve got more flip-flops than a damn beach resort. You want change? Good luck getting it with these milquetoast motherfuckers leading the charge. They can’t decide if they want to be progressive champions or corporate lapdogs. Make up your damn minds!
In essence, while the far-right’s out there playing dirty, many liberals are busy washing their hands, humming to themselves, hoping the world’s problems will just magically wash down the drain. Fucking dreamers! We don’t need fence-sitters; we need fighters. Until then, I guess we’ll be stuck in this never-ending shitshow of mediocrity and missed opportunities.