The stakes are high in the US

Obama's victory is far from certain - and a Romney win would have far reaching effects.

It has been election season in Europe recently. Incumbents of all political colours are feeling the backlash from electorates dissatisfied with stagnant living standards.  Merkozy has been replaced by the more frosty Merkollande; in German Lande and British local government voters have given the national incumbents a kicking and in Greece the up-coming rerun of the inconclusive recent ballot could be a defining moment for the eurozone crisis. Yet for all this, the most important election of 2012 may be across the pond, between Barack Obama and Mitt Romney.

As the US, along with much of the developed world, grapple with fundamental questions about which economic and social policies will best secure widely shared increases in prosperity, the outcome of Presidential election could be of profound importance.  Indeed, as Theda Skocpol – Harvard professor and formidable authority on US politics – puts it in IPPR’s new journal, Juncture:

“I think the 2012 election is going to be one of the most riveting, most hard-fought no-holds-barred elections in US political history – and that says something.”

Part of the excitement stems from how close the vote looks set to be.  Any casual observers in Britain who assumed the election would be straightforward for Obama need to think again. Yes Romney has been bruised by having to slug it out in the Republican primaries – and yes the Democrats will attempt to cast him as out of touch (he recently described $374,000 as “not very much” money). But the polls have been tightening recently and the outcome is far from certain. The economy, while growing, does not look set to take off any time soon. And to make matters worse, the benefits of what growth the US economy has experienced seem to be unevenly shared out.  It looks likely that Romney will seek to focus the election almost entirely on the economy in the hope that cold economic winds will blow Obama from power.

The election is also, in the view of Theda Skocpol, a “turning-point election”. As well as shaping up to be closer than you might think, the implications of this election could be felt by Americans for decades to come.

Why so? An Obama win could mean the entrenchment of progressive changes, however modest, in US politics: healthcare reform, a reappraisal of the principle that the wealthiest should contribute more through their taxes and support for state investment in promoting growth. Few expect a radical turn from a President who has become known for his caution more than his boldness. But in time, by defending these important progressive principles and institutions, the electoral base for further Democratic success could be considerably strengthened. Critically these gains could then be fused with and exploit underlying demographic changes which will see the emergence of a younger and more diverse electorate, potentially giving the Democrats a big long-term opportunity to shape US politics. As Skocpol puts it, a second term for Obama, would “allow a transition to incorporating younger people and a more racially diverse electorate to blow winds into a centre-left Democratic party.”

In contrast, were Romney to win the White House – carried there by the current old, white Republican base and more centrist voters dissatisfied with slow economic growth – he could destroy the institutions and policies which provide the bedrock for Democratic Party support, before looking to reform the Republication Party and broaden its electoral appeal. In the words of Skocpol:

“… there are forces on the right who understand that they are close to their last chance – to use an American football analogy, it’s in the final two minutes and they have got to get that ball down the field and score a touchdown. They understand the importance of this election much better than the befuddled people on my side. They understand that if they can destroy or eviscerate healthcare reform, if they can change Social Security and Medicare for future generations then they can turn afterwards to making an appeal to the growing Latino population and to the younger generation around somewhat more free-market principles. After this election they’ll have to change – they’ll have to give up some of their ‘dead-endism’ over their opposition to gay marriage for example. Republican elites already understand that. But by winning they could very well buy themselves five to 10 years to make this shift, because they’ll be associated with whatever economic recovery occurs and they will have destroyed policies that could have built political identities and coalitions which they understand would have been a threat.”

For many Democrats – and progressives around the world – Obama’s victory in 2008 pulled at the heart strings. But four years on, the optimism of “yes we can” will be hard – perhaps impossible – to revive. Yet 2012 looks set to be a more important election to win – with long-lasting and fundamental implications.

Guy Lodge and Will Paxton are the joint editors of Juncture, IPPR's new journal of centre-left thinking, the first edition of which is out this week. See www.ippr.org/juncture for full details.

Photograph: Getty Images

Guy Lodge and Will Paxton are the joint editors of Juncture, IPPR's new journal of centre-left thinking.

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How Donald Trump is slouching towards the Republican nomination

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb.

In America, you can judge a crowd by its merchandise. Outside the Connecticut Convention Centre in Hartford, frail old men and brawny moms are selling “your Trump 45 football jerseys”, “your hats”, “your campaign buttons”. But the hottest item is a T-shirt bearing the slogan “Hillary sucks . . . but not like Monica!” and, on the back: “Trump that bitch!” Inside, beyond the checkpoint manned by the Transportation Security Administration and the secret service (“Good!” the man next to me says, when he sees the agents), is a family whose three kids, two of them girls, are wearing the Monica shirt.

Other people are content with the shirts they arrived in (“Waterboarding – baptising terrorists with freedom” and “If you don’t BLEED red, white and blue, take your bitch ass home!”). There are 80 chairs penned off for the elderly but everyone else is standing: guys in motorcycle and military gear, their arms folded; aspiring deal-makers, suited, on cellphones; giggling high-school fatsos, dressed fresh from the couch, grabbing M&M’s and Doritos from the movie-theatre-style concession stands. So many baseball hats; deep, bellicose chants of “Build the wall!” and “USA!”. (And, to the same rhythm, “Don-ald J!”)

A grizzled man in camouflage pants and combat boots, whose T-shirt – “Connecticut Militia III%” – confirms him as a member of the “patriot” movement, is talking to a zealous young girl in a short skirt, who came in dancing to “Uptown Girl”.

“Yeah, we were there for Operation American Spring,” he says. “Louis Farrakhan’s rally of hate . . .”

“And you’re a veteran?” she asks. “Thank you so much!”

Three hours will pass. A retired US marine will take the rostrum to growl, “God bless America – hoo-rah!”; “Uptown Girl” will play many more times (much like his speeches, Donald J’s playlist consists of a few items, repeated endlessly), before Trump finally looms in and asks the crowd: “Is this the greatest place on Earth?”

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb. Only a minority within a minority of Americans, it was assumed, could possibly be stupid enough to think a Trump presidency was a good idea. He won New Hampshire and South Carolina with over 30 per cent of the Republican vote, then took almost 46 per cent in Nevada. When he cleaned up on Super Tuesday in March, he was just shy of 50 per cent in Massachusetts; a week later, he took 47 per cent of the votes in Mississippi.

His rivals, who are useless individually, were meant to co-operate with each other and the national party to deny him the nomination. But Trump won four out of the five key states being contested on “Super-Duper Tuesday” on 15 March. Then, as talk turned to persuading and co-opting his delegates behind the scenes, Trump won New York with 60 per cent.

Now, the campaign is trying to present Trump as more “presidential”. According to his new manager, Paul Manafort, this requires him to appear in “more formal settings” – without, of course, diluting “the unique magic of Trump”. But whether or not he can resist denouncing the GOP and the “corrupt” primary system, and alluding to violence if he is baulked at at the convention, the new Trump will be much the same as the old.

Back in Hartford: “The Republicans wanna play cute with us, right? If I don’t make it, you’re gonna have millions of people that don’t vote for a Republican. They’re not gonna vote at all,” says Trump. “Hopefully that’s all, OK? Hopefully that’s all, but they’re very, very angry.”

This anger, which can supposedly be turned on anyone who gets in the way, has mainly been vented, so far, on the protesters who disrupt Trump’s rallies. “We’re not gonna be the dummies that lose all of our jobs now. We’re gonna be the smart ones. Oh, do you have one over there? There’s one of the dummies . . .”

There is a frenzied fluttering of Trump placards, off to his right. “Get ’em out! . . . Don’t hurt ’em – see how nice I am? . . . They really impede freedom of speech and it’s a disgrace. But the good news is, folks, it won’t be long. We’re just not taking it and it won’t be long.”

It is their removal by police, at Trump’s ostentatious behest, that causes the disruption, rather than the scarcely audible protesters. He seems to realise this, suddenly: “We should just let ’em . . . I’ll talk right over them, there’s no problem!” But it’s impossible to leave the protesters where they are, because it would not be safe. His crowd is too vicious.

Exit Trump, after exactly half an hour, inclusive of the many interruptions. His people seem uplifted but, out on the street, they are ambushed by a large counter-demonstration, with a booming drum and warlike banners and standards (“Black Lives Matter”; an image of the Virgin of Guadalupe, holding aloft Trump’s severed head). Here is the rest of the world, the real American world: young people, beautiful people, more female than male, every shade of skin colour. “F*** Donald Trump!” they chant.

After a horrified split-second, the Trump crowd, massively more numerous, rallies with “USA!” and – perplexingly, since one of the main themes of the speech it has just heard was the lack of jobs in Connecticut – “Get a job!” The two sides then mingle, unobstructed by police. Slanging matches break out that seem in every instance to humiliate the Trump supporter. “Go to college!” one demands. “Man, I am in college, I’m doin’ lovely!”

There is no violence, only this: some black boys are dancing, with liquid moves, to the sound of the drum. Four young Trump guys counter by stripping to their waists and jouncing around madly, their skin greenish-yellow under the street lights, screaming about the building of the wall. There was no alcohol inside; they’re drunk on whatever it is – the elixir of fascism, the unique magic of Trump. It’s a hyper but not at all happy drunk.

As with every other moment of the Trump campaign so far, it would have been merely some grade of the cringeworthy – the embarrassing, the revolting, the pitiful – were Trump not slouching closer and closer, with each of these moments, to his nomination. 

This article first appeared in the 28 April 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The new fascism