The populist signal is getting louder - and mainstream politics is under threat

Mainstream politicians have responded to populists like George Galloway, Nigel Farage, Beppe Grillo, and Sarah Palin by burying their heads in the sand.

UKIP came from nowhere to finish second in the Eastleigh by-election. According to the latest Ipsos MORI poll, its leader has a positive net approval rating - something that can't be said for David Cameron, Nick Clegg and Ed Miliband. The Tea Party has taken possession of the Republican Party’s agenda in the United States. Beppe Grillo’s Five Star Movement currently leads the opinion polls in Italy. The Danish People’s Party has overtaken the ruling Social Democrats for the first time in an opinion poll. Respect beat Labour in the safe seat of Bradford West.

George Galloway, Nigel Farage, Beppe Grillo, and Sarah Palin have little in common ideologically. But they share one thing – they are populists and populism is the major challenger brand in politics today. What’s more, the established mainstream parties are disorientated in their responses; so mainstream democracy is under stress. Much attention has been devoted to extremist parties, organisations and movements such as Golden Dawn, the EDL and the National Socialist Underground in German- which do pose a security threat. But populism is something quite different – a signal of stress in mainstream democracy.

Populists in the UK, elsewhere in Europe and the US have been dismissed as 'protest' parties, cranks, closet racists and clowns. In reality, they are a real challenge to the way that mainstream parties approach democracy - as a set of compromises underpinned by institutional balances. Populism is an expressive way of doing democracy that has disdain for politics, complexity and compromise.

Populists want democracy to be more driven by the 'general will', a return to a morally pure past, less constrained by law, human rights, and the EU, and for what they see as a corrupt and self-interest political classes to be replaced by 'true democracy'. If the 'the people' want to freeze immigration or protect social spending then that should happen. If the EU is a barrier to the 'general will' of a nation, then it should be confronted. Political elites are corrupt and so is the system they occupy. We need a return to the heartland of the true spirit of a people – before self-interested elites took possession of our democracy. These are the populist modes of argument – whether they are of the far-right, far-left, or even the centre.

Unless mainstream parties of the centre-right and centre-left wake up to the nature of the populist threat, their ability to govern will be heavily restricted. The populist radical right is the most successful variant of populism today - the most successful new party movement in Europe in the last quarter of a century. The Danish People’s Party, the FPO in Austria, Geert Widlers’s PVV in the Netherlands, UKIP in the UK and the Front National in France are just some of the variants of this political family.

The populist radical right was growing well before financial crisis, recession and austerity and is responding to real demands for better protection of ‘the people’ and ways of life. Even in the UK, hitherto insulated by its majoritarian electoral system, the populist radical right in the form of UKIP is beginning to make in-roads. If they get their organisation and tactics right as the Greens did in 2010, it is not impossible to imagine Nigel Farage winning a parliamentary seat in 2015 or even before – contrary to conventional wisdom.

This is not a 'protest' or a 'joke'; it is a direct challenge to the democratic norm. Failure to respond adequately could further fuel the rise of the populists. Mainstream democrats can reverse this tide or they can be swallowed by it. Dismissing the threat and burying heads in the sand is a foolhardy response - and yet that is what it appears to be the approach.

Does it matter? Yes, because populists rarely have any real answers and they can stoke up antipathy for minority groups as well as the way modern democracy functions. This spreads further cynicism, threatens the well-being of some, and undermines the ability of mainstream parties to act in the national interest - even if they are in office. Populism does reflect a real set of values and attitudes which are an entirely legitimate democratic expression, the parties and movements are dishonest about the reality of the constraints that all political decision-makers face.

They express what some of the people want but can't meet what the people need. Their further success is likely to corrode trust in a way that is damaging - regardless of their electoral success or failure. And this is why populism and its actual nature should no longer be ignored.

How can mainstream parties respond? The new Policy Network report into "Democratic stress, the populist signal and extremist threat" outlines two mains substantive responses – statecraft and contact democracy. If the charge is that mainstream elites no longer govern in general interest then they to prove that they can. This means pursing approaches to political economy, welfare reform, public services and immigration that meet needs and respond to the values of the majority – which are mainly pragmatic. Secondly, there is some truth in the charge that mainstream democracy has become distant, closed, controlled by cabals and politically nepotistic. Mainstream parties have to open out, rebuild their local organisations in a way that responds to people instead of just pumping out junk mail, and bring in more a diverse range of representatives – in terms of their real life experience.

Populism – especially in its radical right manifestation – is a real threat to mainstream democracy under stress. The response is not to dismiss it – a natural but counter-productive reflex. Unless there is a more convincing statecraft blended with a renewing contact democracy, then stresses can become crises. The signal is clear. The mainstream response has been anything but. 

 

Anthony Painter is author of the new Policy Network/Barrow Cadbury Trust report Democratic stress, the populist signal and extremist threat

UKIP leader Nigel Farage at a press conference on March 1, 2013 in Eastleigh, Hampshire. Photograph: Getty Images.

Anthony Painter is a political writer, commentator and researcher. His new book Left Without A Future? is published by Arcadia Books in November.

Getty
Show Hide image

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