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Liberal opinion
around the world was dumbfounded on the night of November 8 as it became clear
that political novice Donald Trump had gained sufficient nominations in the
Electoral College to become the 45th president of the United States
of America. It was not only his political immaturity and frequent gaffes that
shocked, but also his outspoken statements denigrating women, ethnic minorities
and Muslims, as well as virtually the entire American political establishment.
Coming hard on the heels of another anti-establishment vote in the United
Kingdom to leave the European Union, political commentators were left
scrabbling for an explanation for what was going on.
The Trump
phenomenon is not only about the United States, just as Brexit was not only
about the United Kingdom. The so-called “radical right” is gaining ground
across Europe as movements such as the French National Front, the Sweden
Democrats, the Dutch Party for Freedom, the Alternative for Germany and, of
course, UKIP reshape the respective political landscapes. In post-communist
countries too, similar movements are thriving. Prime Minister Victor Orban in
Hungary has
described the arrival of Middle Eastern refugees as a poison and has
publicly disavowed liberal democracy. The governing party in Slovakia,
nominally social democrat, also shares many of Orban’s views on migrants.
So what is going
on? First of all, these parties, although described as “right-wing”, are so in
a cultural sense, not in an economic sense. Some, for example the French
National Front, actually take an economically left-wing position. Others have
rather vague positions with regard to the economy and focus only on cultural or
identity matters such as immigration and national sovereignty. If the main
political struggle in the twentieth century was between the economic left and
the economic right on matters such as the role of the state versus the free
market in the economy, in the twenty-first the struggle seems to be between a
cultural right and a cultural left defined by the ideological construction of
the “other”.
So why is this
happening? In her speech at the Lord Mayor's banquet on 14 November, Theresa May talked about
the way liberalism and globalisation have left people behind. But the
notion of the “left behind” has been circulating in academic literature for a
while now. Writing in 2006, Hanspeter Kriesi and his colleagues suggest
that a new cleavage has opened up in European societies between “winners” and
“losers” of globalisation. “Losers”, they argue, seek to protect themselves
by placing greater emphasis on national boundaries and sovereignty. In their
2014 book Revolt on the Right, Ford and Goodwin
use the term “left behind” to characterise UKIP voters in the United Kingdom,
referring by implication to those who feel left behind by globalisation.
Goodwin and Heath describe June's Brexit vote in similar terms in
a recent LSE blog, pointing out that those voting to leave the EU, just
like UKIP voters, tend to be older, working-class, white voters who lack
qualifications and skills. Political
commentators seem to be suggesting that similar forces are at play in the US,
as the decaying former industrial rust belt provided enough votes to push
Donald Trump over the finish line in November's elections. Research into French voters who
support the National Front and Swedish voters
supporting the Sweden Democrats also seem to concur that these parties tend
to draw from less educated and blue collar backgrounds.
But why is this
discontent expressed in cultural, rather than economic terms? After all, many
of the “left behind” are economically marginalised and so surely they would
turn to economic left-wing alternatives of wealth distribution and state
intervention? Indeed in those parts of Europe where austerity has hit living
standards hardest and where those who have lost out tend to be young and less
beholden to identity politics, radical left parties such as Spain’s Podemos and
Greece’s SYRIZA have indeed flourished. However, in much of northern Europe, as
well as the United States, it is older blue collar workers who feel alienated,
marginalised and stripped of their dignity.
Their economic well-being may not have collapsed, but they feel
vulnerable both economically and in terms of their identity and place in the
world. As traditional community institutions crumble, businesses and shops are
taken over by global brands and the arrival of newcomers change the nature of
their communities, they feel that they no longer recognise the country in which
they grew up. They may wish to turn back the clock, “go back to the way things
were” and cling to the familiar trappings of identity and erstwhile “national
sovereignty”. Such nostalgics will readily lend an ear to populist promises to
“get the country back”.
I do not want to
pretend that the growing cleavage between winners and losers of globalisation
is the only explanation for the rise of the populist right in Europe and North
America. Social media also plays a very critical role, especially in terms of
sharpening rather than attenuating ideological divisions. Facebook's practice
of recommending its users news stories that conform to their pre-existing
points of view may exacerbate this tendency. Studying the impact of social
media on political preferences is as yet at an embryonic stage and much more
research on this is needed.
So what can be
done? Some argue that the rise of the populist right is a passing phase and the
sensible status quo will soon reassert itself. I hope they are right, but I
fear they are not. I believe that this phenomenon is rapidly becoming an existential
threat to liberal democracy and has the potential to reverse many of the
liberal gains of post-war Europe and America if action is not taken soon. One
thing seems clear; the rise of the populist right has a cause and this cause is
mainly economic. The key challenge must therefore be how to take action that
will protect the “left behind” from further economic marginalisation. Another
challenge for politicians is how to help foster an idea of communitarianism
that allows citizens to maintain a sense of identity without the baggage of
prejudice and bigotry. A possible model here may be that of the Scottish
National Party, which appears to be successful in tapping into Scottish pride
and Scottish identity without targeting an “enemy within”. It is also a matter
of political communication. Politicians must be engaged in their communities,
able and willing to discuss and understand their problems and to confront,
rather than placate extremism. Mimicking the populist right will not help
mainstream parties. After all, why would one vote for a diluted version of the
French National Front or UKIP if one can vote for the real thing? But ignoring
the grievances of the marginalised will only increase their sense of alienation
and add fuel to the fire.
Benjamin Barber,
in his seminal 1992 essay Jihad
vs. McWorld, sees in globalization one of two dystopian political futures: McWorld, defined by cultural uniformity
and integration into a single homogenous global network; and jihad, defined by cultural
re-tribalisation and identity politics. At the current moment it is jihad that seems to be making the
running.
