US Politics

The pairing of British prime minister Keir Starmer and US president Donald Trump connotes many imponderables. The only certainty happens to be the most significant: they will be in office together for four years.

It is rare for a prime minister and a president to have the luxury of knowing – barring extreme unpredictabilities, such as death or incapacity – they have a full term in harness. And personal chemistry matters.

Trump emphasises (rather too much for the liking of America’s allies) the deal, the handshake, the gaze; the bond that only the lonely, only those who lead, can have. Starmer emphasises level-headedness (although his government has not been particulary conspicuous in evincing it).

Opposites may well attract, but the precedents for coterminous presidents and prime ministers are not encouraging. John Major and Bill Clinton, elected seven months apart, spent 1992 to 1997 together. But in the very definition of what not to do before an election, London had made its preference for the result of the election in America known – and the other guy won. The Conservative and the Democrat were no more than coolly cordial thereafter.

Major awks.
Alamy/Michael Stephens

On his re-election in 2001, Tony Blair knew he had George W. Bush for at least four years – it turned out to be eight – but the consequences for him were disastrous once the two decided to partake in a war on “terror”.

In 1964, Harold Wilson and Lyndon Johnson were elected almost simultaneously, and spent 1964 to 1968 together. Though they were Labour and Democrat, and therefore from sister parties, it was not a harmonious pairing. Wilson’s meddling in, but lack of support for, Johnson’s war in Vietnam was a source of unbridled irritation in the White House.

Trump and May

The last time Trump became president, Theresa May was prime minister and she travelled with undisguised haste to the White House. There she achieved a highly untypical diplomatic coup in getting Trump to commit publicly to Nato (that bars should be so low was a general feature of the presidency).

Their subsequent relationship was, however, toxic. No prime minister has been less likely to gaze, to bond (despite pictures of them holding hands), and the president held her as having mangled Brexit, a bid for freedom with which he was keen to associate himself.

Theresa May and Donald Trump during her visit to the White House, before relations turned sour.
EPA

Before the US election, Starmer displayed a unfamiliar deftness of touch, and banked some credit. His immediate phone call to candidate Trump following an attempt on his life in July was both bold and smart. There followed the fabled Trump Tower two-hour chicken dinner.

It was more typical for Starmer that when it emerged, in a most unfortunate echo of 1992, Labour activists – and Starmer’s own pollster – were working on the Kamala Harris campaign, Trump’s people cried foreign interference and threatened legal action.

And the two in Starmer’s team who will have the most exposure to the new administration have both been publicly rude about Trump. David Lammy, now foreign secretary, called him “deluded, dishonest, xenophobic [and] narcissistic” in 2019.

Peter Mandelson, nominated but not yet confirmed as the UK ambassador to the US, has made comments about Trump being a “bully” and a “danger to the world”. To appease opposition in DC on his appointment, Mandelson has since turned on a sixpence (or perhaps a dime).

This is, at root, about Trump. No other president would have attracted such comments from frontline politicians. But from TV studio to TV studio, Lammy and Mandelson will have those quotes hung about their necks as if they were modern-day ancient mariners. Starmer’s innate caution in public utterance, in this area at least, has inured him.

Indeed, the repercussions of his unusual boldness in picking Mandelson over a career diplomat may discourage Starmer from ever thinking imaginatively again.

Most members of the Trump administration would be naturally hostile to a Labour government even without its leading figures insulting their boss or campaigning for his opponent. Certainly, the grounds for disagreement are great: the threat of tariffs, demanded increases in defence spending, the sovereignty of the Chagos Islands, co-operation with China and support for Ukraine.

Thus Morgan McSweeney – architect of Labour’s 2024 victory, planner of its re-election and Starmer’s chief of staff – flew out to meet Susie Wiles, his equivalent in the White House. (It did not, a person privy to such information told me, go well. Voices were raised.)

Elon Musk, this moment’s most prominent presidential acolyte inveighed on X, “Starmer must go”, adding for good measure, “He is a national embarrassment.” It is indeed embarrassing – for Starmer – but he will be consoled with the well-founded suspicion that the life-expectancy of Musk and Trump’s tech bromance will be much less than four years.

Cause for self-reflection

The return of Trump, emboldened and more powerful than before, has effectively forced the posing of the age-old question: over which expanse of sea should Britain gaze – the Channel or the Atlantic? Churchill thought it should – and that only Britain could – do both.

Hence, perhaps, Trump’s own public statement about the possible destination of his first international trip: “It could be UK. Traditionally, it’s been UK.”

It hasn’t. Only Jimmy Carter, in 1977, and Joe Biden, in 2021, visited the UK first – and then because of summits. More than a few presidents (most recently Ford and Johnson) didn’t visit at all.

But even what might have been a supportive comment was laced with arsenic: “Last time, I went to Saudi Arabia because they agreed to buy 450 billion dollars’ worth of United States merchandise … And if that offer were right, I’d do that again.” Which at least may free the British government to be as unsentimentally transactional.

Trump and Starmer achieved big victories, albeit when painted in the most flattering terms. Starmer’s came on a historically low combination of vote share and voter turnout, Trump’s with fewer votes than Biden. But Trump will like that Starmer won a large majority. When May managed to lose hers in 2017, what little respect Trump had for her went with it.

Starmer would much rather have had four years with Biden, and even more with Harris, another public prosecutor of the left. But he has to deal with the transatlantic relationship as it is, rather than as he would wish it to be, and this one is most unlikely to be special.

Starmer is, moreover, a realist. Which is why he’ll also know that the second Trump presidency will be much more consequential than the first. Caution may have limited effect. More

US President Donald Trump isn’t happy about the way some countries are taxing American citizens and companies. He has made clear he’s willing to retaliate, threatening to double taxes for their own citizens and companies.

Can Trump really do that, unilaterally, as president? It turns out he can, under a 90-year-old provision of the US tax code – Section 891.

In an executive memo signed on January 20 outlining his “America First Trade Policy”, Trump instructed US Treasury to:

investigate whether any foreign country subjects United States citizens or corporations to discriminatory or extraterritorial taxes pursuant to Section 891 of Title 26, United States Code.

A sweeping power

Section 891 of the US Internal Revenue Code is short, but it is in sweeping terms.

If the president finds that US citizens or corporations are being subjected to “discriminatory or extraterritorial taxes” under the laws of any foreign country, he “shall so proclaim” this. US income tax rates on the citizens or corporations of that country are then automatically doubled.

Section 891 of the US tax code allows the president to double US taxes on foreign citizens and companies – under certain circumstances.
Yuri Gripas/Pool/EPA

The extra tax that could be collected is capped at 80% of the US taxable income of the taxpayer. The president can revoke a proclamation, if the foreign country reverses its “discriminatory or extraterritorial” taxation.

Section 891 is an extraordinary provision – but it has never been applied. As far as I know, no other country has legislated such a rule. Importantly, it would only apply to a person or business subject to income taxation by the US.

Take, for example, a foreign national earning a wage in the US. If this individual’s home country became subject to a proclamation under Section 891, their individual tax rate in the US would be doubled – to as much as 74%.

A foreign company earning taxable profits in the US would face a doubling of the company tax rate from 21% to 42%.

A bit of history

A version of Section 891 has been in the US tax code since 1934, an earlier troubled time of tax disputes and economic depression.

It was signed into law by Democratic President Franklin D. Roosevelt on May 10 1934, amid a tax dispute between the US and France.

US President Franklin D. Roosevelt signed Section 891 into law in 1934, putting pressure on France to end a tax dispute.
Vincenzo Laviosa/Wikimedia Commons

According to US tax historian Joseph Thorndike, the move followed attempts by France to levy additional taxes on US companies operating there, beginning in the mid-1920s.

France had tried to use an 1873 law to tax US companies operating in France on profits earned in the parent company back in the US, and in other subsidiaries around the world, not just the French company profits.

The aim was to counter international profit-shifting, which could be used to reduce the tax payable by US subsidiaries operating in France by claiming deductions or shifting income to other group companies outside France.

The dispute was long-standing and France tried to assess taxes going back decades for some US companies. The potentially massive tax bill (it seems the tax was never actually collected) became a geopolitical issue, and the companies asked the US government to intervene on their behalf.

Thorndike explains that a bilateral tax treaty was negotiated between the US and France to remedy this “double tax” situation. But the French legislature refused to ratify it.

In retaliation, US Congress passed Section 891, and six months later, France ratified its bilateral tax treaty with the US.

Parallels with today

In 1934, there were no digital multinational enterprises like Meta or Google. But that tax dispute nevertheless has parallels with modern concerns about taxing companies internationally.

The French government was trying, with a rather heavy hand, to counter international profit-shifting by large US multinationals.

Section 891 was re-enacted in later US tax codes, up to today, with minor amendments and no attempt to invoke it. It has remained in the background as a potential exercise of US fiscal and market power, supported by both sides of US politics.

Tax professor Itai Grinberg, who worked in the Biden administration on the OECD tax deal, suggested it could be applied to the European Union decision that taxes Apple in Ireland.

The US tech giants are only the latest in a long line of powerful American multinational corporations.
Tada Images/Shutterstock

What might Trump do?

President Trump has specifically targeted the OECD global tax negotiations with this threat, just a month after Australia has legislated the global minimum tax under “Pillar Two” of the OECD Global Tax Deal.

The OECD deal aims to ensure large multinational enterprises pay a minimum 15% effective tax rate in all the jurisdictions in which they operate, by applying a top-up tax and under-taxed profit tax.

Trump asserted in a memorandum that the OECD Global Tax Deal is “extraterritorial”, instructing the US Secretary of the Treasury and the US Trade Representative to investigate it.

Could Australia be singled out?

Trump’s memorandum also ordered an investigation into “other discriminatory foreign tax practices” that may harm US companies.

This includes whether any foreign countries are not complying with their US tax treaties or have, or are likely to put in place, any tax rules that “disproportionately affect American companies”.

Notably, this could put Australia’s proposed “news bargaining incentive” in the crosshairs.

Under this proposal, digital platforms (many of which are US-owned) would have to pay a new levy, which could be offset if they negotiate or renew deals with Australian news media publishers to pay for hosting news content.

Section 891 could apply to such taxes if they were found by Trump to be “discriminatory” against US companies. What “discriminatory” means is not clear.

Its been suggested that foreign citizens or companies could be protected from Section 891 by their country’s tax treaty with the US, under the standard approach that a later treaty prevails over an older code section. But Australia’s tax treaty with the US took effect in 1983, before the most recent re-enactment of Section 891 in the US tax code.

Read more:
News bargaining incentive: the latest move in the government’s ‘four-dimensional chess’ battle with Meta More

US president Donald Trump is surrounded by a new cohort of politicians and officials. While one of his campaign promises was to overthrow the “corrupt elites” he accuses of flooding the American political arena, his second term in office has elevated elites chosen, above all, for their political loyalty to him.

The media’s focus on Trump’s comments on making Canada the 51st US state and annexing Greenland and billionaire Elon Musk’s support for some far-right parties in Europe has obscured the ambitious programme to transform the federal government that the new political elite intends to implement.

In the wake of Trump’s inauguration on January 20, the Republican elites most loyal to the MAGA (“Make America Great Again”) leader, who staunchly oppose Democratic elites and their policies, are operating amid their party’s control over the executive and legislative branches (at least until the midterm elections in 2026), a conservative-dominated Supreme Court that includes three Trump-appointed justices, and a federal judiciary that shifted right during his first term.

However, the political project of the Trumpist camp consists less of challenging elitism in general than attacking a specific elite: one particular to liberal democracies.

Castigating democratic elitism

Typical anti-elite political propaganda, along the lines of “I speak for you, the people, against the elites who betray and deceive you,” claims that a populist leader would be able to exercise power for and on behalf of the people without the mediation of an elite disconnected from their needs.

Political theorist John Higley sees behind this form of anti-elite discourse an association between so-called “forceful leaders” and “leonine elites” (who take advantage of the former and their political success): a phenomenon that threatens the future of Western democracies.

Since the Second World War, there has been a consensus in US politics on the idea of democratic elitism. According to this principle, elitist mediation is inevitable in mass democracies and must be based on two criteria: respect for the results of elections (which must be free and competitive); and the relative autonomy of political institutions.

The challenge to this consensus has been growing since the 1990s with the increased polarization of American politics. It gained new momentum during and after the 2016 presidential campaign, which was marked by anti-elite rhetoric from both Republicans and Democrats (such as senators Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren). At the heart of some of their diatribes was an aversion to “the Establishment” on the east and west coasts of the United States, where many prestigious financial, political and academic institutions are based, and the conspiracy notion of the “deep state”.

The re-election of Trump, who has never admitted defeat in the 2020 presidential vote, growing political hostility and the direct involvement of tech tycoons in political communication –especially on the Republican side– further reinforce the denial of democratic elitism.

Trump’s populism from above: a revolt of the elites

The idea that democracy could be betrayed by “the revolt of the elites”, put forward by the US historian Christopher Lasch (1932-1994), is not new. For the anthropologist Arjun Appadurai, it is a particular feature of contemporary populism, which comes “from above.” Indeed, if the 20th century was the era of the “revolt of the masses”, the 21st century, according to Appadurai, “is characterized by the ‘revolt of the elites’.” This would explain the rise of populist autocracies (such as those currently led by Viktor Orban in Hungary, Recep Tayyip Erdogan in Turkey and Narendra Modi in India, and formerly led by Jair Bolsonaro in Brazil), but also the election successes of populist leaders in consolidated democracies (including those of Trump in the US, Giorgia Meloni in Italy, and Geert Wilders in the Netherlands, for example).

As Appadurai explains, the success of Trumpian populism, which represents a revolt by ordinary Americans against the elites, casts a veil over the fact that, following Trump’s victory in November, “it is a new elite that has ousted from power the despised Democratic elite that had occupied the White House for nearly four years.”

The aim of this “alter elite” is to replace the “regular” Democrat elites, but also the moderate Republicans, by deeply discrediting their values (such as liberalism and so-called “wokeism”) and their supposedly corrupt political practices. As a result, this populism “from above” carried out by the President’s supporters constitutes an alternative elite configuration, the effects of which on American democratic life could be more significant than those observed during Trump’s first term.

Beyond the idea of a ‘Muskoligarchy’

The idea that we are witnessing the formation of a “Muskoligarchy” –in other words, an economic elite (including tech barons such as Jeff Bezos, Mark Zuckerberg and Marc Andreessen) rallying around the figurehead of Elon Musk, whom Trump asked to lead what the president has called a “Department of Government Efficiency” (DOGE) –is seductive. It perfectly combines the vision of an alliance between a “conspiratorial, coherent, conscious” ruling class and an oligarchy made up of the “ultra-rich”. For the Financial Times columnist Martin Wolf, it is even a sign of the development of “pluto-populism”. (It is also worth noting that former president Joe Biden, in his farewell speech, referred to “an oligarchy… of extreme wealth” and “the potential rise of a tech-industrial complex.”)

However, some observers are cautious about the advent of a “Muskoligarchy.” They point to the sociological eclecticism of the new Trumpian elite, whose facade of unity is held together above all by a political loyalty, for the time being unfailing, to the MAGA leader. The fact remains, however, that the various factions of this new “anti-elite” elite are converging around a common agenda: to rid the federal government of the supposed stranglehold of Democratic “insiders.”

An ‘anti-elite’ elite against the ‘deep state’

In his presidential inauguration speech in 1981, Ronald Reagan said: “Government is not the solution to our problem; government is the problem.” The anti-elitism of the Trump elite is inspired by this diagnosis, and defends a simple political programme: rid democracy of the “deep state.”

Although the idea that the US is “beleaguered” by an “unelected and unaccountable elite” and “insiders” who subvert the general interest has been shown to be unfounded, it is nonetheless predominant in the new Trump Administration.

This conspiracy theory has been taken to the extreme by Kash Patel, the candidate being considered to head the FBI. In his book, Government Gangsters, a veritable manifesto against the federal administration, the former lawyer writes about the need to resort to “purges” in order to bring elite Democrats to justice. He lists around 60 people, including Biden, ex-secretary of state Hillary Clinton and ex-vice president Kamala Harris.

Government Gangsters, Kash Patel’s controversial book.
Google Books

The appointment of Russell Vought as head of the Office of Management and Budget at the White House, a person who is known for having sought to obstruct the transition to the Biden Administration in 2021, also highlights the hard turn that the Trump administration is likely to take.

Reshaping the state around political loyalty

To “deconstruct the administrative state”, the “anti-elite” elites are relying on Project 2025, a 900-plus page programme report that the conservative think-tank The Heritage Foundation, which published it, says was produced by “more than 400 scholars and policy experts.” According to former Project 2025 director Paul Dans, “never before has the entire movement… banded together to construct a comprehensive plan” for this purpose. On this basis, the “anti-elite” elite want to impose loyalty to Project 2025 on federal civil servants.

But this idea is not new. At the end of his first term, Trump issued an executive order facilitating the dismissal of statutory federal civil servants occupying “policy-related positions” and considered to be “disloyal”. The decree was rescinded by president Biden, but Trump on his first day back in office signed an executive order that seeks to void Biden’s rescindment. As President, Trump is also able to allocate senior positions within the federal administration to his supporters.

The “anti-elite” elite not only want to reduce the size of the state, as was the case under Reagan’s “neoliberalism”, but to deconstruct and rebuild it in their own image. Their real aim is a more lasting victory: the transformation of democratic elitism into populist elitism. More