The real lesson of the US election? Populism isn’t going anywhere

Former US President Donald Trump speaks during a campaign rally at Atrium Health Amphitheater
Former US President Donald Trump speaks during a campaign rally at Atrium Health Amphitheater - ELIJAH NOUVELAGE/AFP

As America goes to the polls, the seat of its democracy, Washington DC, is suffused with a surreal calm. The unassailable magnificence of the Capitol Building is amplified as the surrounding trees shed their leaves. The city’s Greek Revival mansions have blue signs emblazoned with “Let’s Win This”, and the odd, battered Hummer cruises through the city with “Let’s Make America Great Again” stickers tacked to the window.

But the true slogans of this election are muttered under the breath of ordinary people sweeping streets, sipping beer in the jazz joints and making small talk as they wait for their takeaway orders at Burger King: “Nothing is going to change … Nobody has the answers.”

This is not the kind of atmosphere that one would expect in an election that Kamala Harris has claimed will “decide the future of democracy”. True, the American election appears to be too close to call. If undecided Republicans fed up with the Trump cult stay home, Harris could clinch it. A shock poll, which shows Donald Trump losing the safe Republican state of Iowa, suggests this is in the realms of possibility. Still, Trump seems to be the favourite. And even if Harris snatches victory, he has given her a run for her money.

The willingness of voters to entertain a second Trump presidency speaks to a new paradox emerging across parts of the West. Most people would prefer to elect unifying, pragmatic politicians into power but; on the other hand for want of such figures, they are relaxed about supporting a firebrand populist instead. Polling suggests the ceiling for Harris’s vote share is, in theory, higher than that for Trump – however Trump seems to be capturing a higher share of his potential vote than Harris. The implications of such an attitude is starting to sink in among the Democratic camp.

Harris has run a tactically magnificent electoral bid. She has managed to maintain a remarkable discipline within the ranks and her talent for fundraising has been jaw-dropping. But it has been strategically deficient and lacking in vision.

Some Democrats believe her decision not to distance herself from the Biden era – to prevent party infighting – has undermined her pitch for change. Some are despairing of her last-minute switch away from talking up her progressive economics to prophesying the end of democracy. One ally who worked on Bill Clinton’s campaign expressed to me their doubt that Harris has “knit what are strong policies into an electrifying story about where we’ve been, where we are and where we are going”.

Meanwhile, Trump’s staying power during this campaign indicates that the popularity of populism endures. His appeal has subtly shifted, but not faded. This time, Trump supporters have lower expectations. Ask his voters whether they really believe he is going to pay for free childcare through tariffs, or successfully implement the biggest mass deportation project since Operation Wetback, and they’ll shrug.

But as peculiar as it might seem, the billionaire Trump remains for many the political embodiment of the forgotten working class. Derided by educated East Coasters for his love of fast food and “lower than sixth grade grammar”, many of the voters who aren’t living the American Dream identify with him. It has been fascinating to converse with African-American men in DC as they reveal: “We see ourselves more in Trump.”

By dressing up like a garbage man and serving fries at McDonald’s, Trump has effectively allowed millions living in forgotten towns and working regular jobs to feel seen. That doesn’t put food on the table or bring back the Ford factories. But voting in “one of their own” does afford such people a kind of dignity and show of power.

It is certainly true that many Americans are outraged by the idea the presidency could be bequeathed to a convicted felon, a philanderer and a businessman who lied about his wealth. But millions appear to be equally – if not more – offended at the injustice of a “schmoozing non-entity” landing the most prestigious job in the country.

Harris’s travails ought to terrify Sir Keir Starmer. Like the Democrat leader, he is a tactically canny, rather than a strategically talented, leader. For Starmer, the Ming vase strategy paid off; for Harris, the outcome is far from certain. But both have struggled to resist leaning into the sorts of policies which appease the Left’s various factions. Hence Starmer’s willingness to jeopardise Labour’s fiscal credibility by offering pay hikes to public sector staff. And, like Harris, Starmer is failing to successfully create an overarching narrative of change. To many, the chaos of the Tory era and the entropy of the Labour one are indistinguishable.

And the context is not dissimilar here in Britain. As in the US, voters yearn for leaders who offer change rather than drama. That is why they elected by a landslide a dry technocrat who vowed to “fix our foundations”. But, judging by Reform’s unceasing momentum, openness to a populist revolt has not abated either, despite the Brexit wars and our subsequent failure to seize its opportunities.

Nor should Starmer overlook the potential for Nigel Farage to triumph in his apparent mission to become Britain’s Trump. Critics wrinkle their noses in revulsion at his smoker’s cackle, flat cap and photo opportunities in the country’s public houses. But his implicit promise to put the forgotten provinces back at the heart of British politics, and shift attention away from metropolitan centres, is very potent.

The fact that many of Reform’s policies are unworkable is almost besides the point. What America teaches us is that people are willing to vote for populists not because they believe that they can magically transform their lot, but because at least underdog politicians seem to be on their side.

Even if Reform’s fate is to merely function as a pressure group, pulling the Tories to the Right (and, perhaps, sparking defections of the so-called “wet” MPs who may find the Liberal Democrats a more natural home), a born-again populist Conservative Party might equally threaten flailing, technocratic Labour.

Irrespective of the outcome, the big lesson of the US election is that Right-wing radicalism is not going away. The old politics of Left and Right has morphed into a rivalry between technocrats and populists. And that is the way things are going to stay.