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    Donald Trump: The Worst Kind of Populist

    Every year, the movers and shakers of our times come together for a few days in Davos, a swanky resort of literary fame in the Swiss Alps thanks to Thomas Mann, who made it the setting of his magnum opus, “The Magic Mountain.” Today, the economic, political and academic high-flyers no longer come to Davos to be cured of tuberculosis but to contemplate the state of the world. In recent years, the results have been increasingly somber, reflecting a new realism, not to say pessimism, that one might not have expected from such an illustrious crowd. Last year, the reunion was dominated by the threat posed by the eruption of populism.

    Michael Froman, the vice president of Mastercard, set the tone with his warning that “one thing is clear: nationalism, populism, nativism, and protectionism are on the rise. Economic insecurities, as well as a growing sense of lost sovereignty, have contributed to an unprecedented degree of political polarization, and not just in the US.”

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    The reference to the United States is hardly surprising. For the past several years, anyone writing on populism and its various aspects has invariably invoked two major events: Brexit and the election of Donald Trump. Both have been framed as part of a larger populist revolt, which is characterized as one of the most significant and distinctive, if not outright defining, political features of today’s world. But is it really that clear-cut, that obvious?

    It largely depends on how populism is defined. Is it merely an expression of widespread disaffection with a political system that appears to have largely failed to take seriously and address the grievances of the “ordinary people”? Or is it something entirely more serious, something that poses a fundamental challenge, if not a threat to liberal democracy?

    It Can’t Happen Here

    As is so often the case, there is ample support for both interpretations. This might explain the passionate, diametrically opposed sentiments Donald Trump has and continues to evoke. Despite everything — his shallowness coupled with an egotism that borders on the pathological, his dishonesty and myriads of lies, his vulgarity, callousness and utter lack of empathy, his obvious ignorance and glaring incompetence — a substantial part of the American electorate will support him, no matter what.

    At the same time, because of what Trump embodies, stands for and projects, a substantial part of the American electorate has nothing but contempt for a president who once claimed that he could shoot somebody in the middle of Manhattan and still maintain the support of his voters. Unfortunately, he might have been right.

    Statements like that led a number of commentators ahead of the 2016 election to express fears that a Trump presidency might descend into fascism. Some of them evoked Lewis Sinclair’s 1935 novel “It Can’t Happen Here,” pointing out the eerie resemblance between Sinclair’s Berzelius “Buzz” Windrip and Donald Trump. Several years into his presidency, the debate of whether or not Trump is a fascist is still in full swing.

    The answer is fairly obvious, at least for those who have spent some time studying fascist regimes, such as Benito Mussolini’s totalitarian state. This, in fact, is one of the central tenets of fascism — the glorification of the strong state. As Mussolini once put it, “Everything in the state, nothing outside the state, nothing against the state!” What this phrase means, at least in theory, is nothing less than the complete subordination of the individual to the exigencies of the state and its supreme leader. Reality, of course, looked a bit different, as Federico Fellini has so brilliantly shown.

    It is for this reason alone that the fascism charge against Trump makes little sense, given America’s long tradition of, and abiding allegiance to, individualism. It is the rampant individualism that permeates American social and economic life, which, for instance, has been identified as a major reason for the widespread refusal in recent weeks to wear masks. Under the circumstances, it is probably best to abandon the fascism charge altogether, if only because comparing Trump to the likes of Mussolini and particularly Hitler can only but contribute to the trivialization of fascism and Nazism, responsible for mass murder and horrendous suffering on a massive scale.

    If Not Fascist, Then What?

    If not a fascist, what then is Trump? Over the course of his presidency, it has become increasingly obvious that Donald Trump represents the epitome of a radical right-wing populist — and of the worst kind. Radical right-wing populism is a blend of populism and nativism, which promotes a fundamental social and political transformation of the existing liberal system. This is along the lines of Victor Orban’s model of “illiberal democracy” — the endpoint of a slow process of eroding and ultimately asphyxiating both the ideational and institutional foundations of liberal representative democracy. In the past, the populist model of illiberal democracy was largely confined to Latin American regimes, starting with Juan Perón in Argentina and ending with Hugo Chavez in Venezuela and Evo Morales in Bolivia.

    In the United States, the most outstanding example of this kind of populism was Huey Long, first the governor of, then the senator for Louisiana in the late 1920s and early 1930s. And, in fact, commentators have drawn parallels between Long, “with his loud mouth and boorish ways,” as a contemporary characterized him, and Trump. Both men “presented themselves to the electorate as insurgents, outsiders seeking to disrupt the established order and tackle vested interests, promising widespread economic and political reform.” Both men, once in office, displayed authoritarian dispositions and established and consolidated a system of cronyism, if not outright corruption, fundamentally at odds with the tenets of America’s model of liberal democracy.

    Here, however, the resemblance ends. Unlike Trump, Long was genuinely concerned about the plight of the poor and, particularly as senator, pushed for a progressive agenda centering around redistributive policies. In fact, his most memorable message, as Adrian Mercer points out, “aimed at the state’s poor, dispossessed, and marginalised, was encapsulated in the “Share our Wealth” programme which offered voters a promised land where, in his famous phrase, “every man a king.”

    According to the prominent economist Barry Eichengreen, Long proposed capping annual incomes at $1 million and inheritances at $5.1 million. The resulting revenues were supposed to go into a basic income of $2,500, provide pensions to the elderly, free health care to veterans and free education to students attending college or vocational training. And unlike Trump, Huey Long never had the chance to run for president. He was murdered in 1935, his assassination triggered by his maneuvering in Louisiana’s legislature to rid himself of one of his political opponents.

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    Populists justify this kind of shenanigans (getting rid of opponents via legislative means) as expressions of the “will of the people.” The people’s will is deemed confirmed via numerous elections and popular referenda and summed up, as it were, by the populist leader who incarnates the people — “El pueblo soy yo,” as the title of Enrique Krauze’s book on populism puts it. Since the populist leader is nothing but the expression of the will of the people — what Ernesto Laclau has called an “empty signifier” onto whom the people can project their anxieties, fears, fury, resentments and, yes, aspirations — there is no need for checks and balances and competitive pluralism. The result is a state “in which the political power relativizes the rule of law, democracy and human rights in politically sensitive cases; constitutionalizes populist nationalism; and takes advantage of identity politics, new patrimonialism, clientelism, and state-controlled corruption.”

    In order to bring this about, populists have employed what Stephen Gardbaum has referred to as “revolutionary constitutionalism.” This entails “using the constitution-making (and amendment) process as a tool of ordinary rather than higher politics to entrench an existing or newly empowered government’s position through measures that concentrate its power and render successful electoral opposition more difficult.” This is what happened, in one form or another, in Hungary, Venezuela, Bolivia and Ecuador under populist regimes.

    “Own People”

    Illiberal democracy is only one side of the radical right-wing populist coin. The other, and significantly more important one — particularly in the case of political parties in competitive representative democracies such as exist in Western Europe that have little chance to gain an absolute majority — is nativism. Nativist doctrine maintains that the interests of the “native-born” should have absolute priority over those new to the national community. The “own people” should always come first: citizens before non-citizens, the native-born before foreigners, the own nation before the rest of the world. Popular slogans such as National Rally’s “La France aux français,” (“France for the French”), “Les français d’abord” (“The French First”), or Vlaams Blok’s “Eigen Volk Eerst” (“Own People First”) attest to the centrality of nativism in the radical populist right’s ideational repertoire.

    Politically, nativists stand for protecting a country’s job market and welfare benefits against “outgroup” competitors. At the same time, they promote a wide array of measures designed to defend, maintain and revive the cherished heritage of the autochthonous population’s culture, customs and values. As far as the government is concerned, nativist doctrine demands that it demonstrate a “reasonable partiality towards compatriots by protecting and advancing the socioeconomic and cultural welfare of its own citizens, more often than not defined in ethnic terms.”

    Radical right-wing populism is hardly new to American politics. In fact, nativism originated in the United States in the first half of the 19th century, with the arrival of waves of immigrants from Europe, the vast majority of them Catholics from Ireland and the southern parts of Germany. In response, Protestants organized secret societies and associations set on countering what they considered the “deadly threat” to the republic posed by an alien force they deemed intent on subverting the country’s institutions and ultimately subordinating America to the pope.

    Over time, the various anti-Catholic organizations merged into a political party, popularly known as the Know Nothings, which combined anti-elite populism with a strong dose of nativism. For a few years in antebellum America, the Know Nothings posed a significant threat to the established political system before falling apart over a new contentious issue — abolitionism. Ironically enough, many Know Nothings joined Abraham Lincoln’s Republican Party, bringing with them a legacy of anti-Catholicism.

    Perhaps not surprisingly, the Republican Party under Donald Trump has been compared to the Know Nothings, given its “loathing for immigrants.” This comparison is both fair and unfair: fair because the Know Nothings stoked anxieties and fears of a Catholic takeover of the United States, which was ludicrous, to say the least; unfair because unlike today’s Trump-subservient minions in the Republican Party, the Know Nothings never outright opposed immigration, not even from Catholic countries, and never advocated closing America’s shores or building a wall. What they demanded instead was extending the period of naturalization to 21 years, equal to the period it took for a “native-born” to become a citizen with full citizen rights.

    Greatest Suction Pump in the World

    In the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic, nativist sentiments have received a significant boost. Surveys suggest a substantial increase in public support for economic protectionism, particularly with respect to critical and strategically important sectors such as health and food. At the same time, calls for regaining national sovereignty, particularly as it regards national borders, and for shoring up a sense of national identity have gained increasing support, not only among the public, but also among the political establishment.

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    Last but not least, the pandemic has provided new justifications for demands to further reduce access to social benefits to the “undeserving” — primarily migrants from non-Western countries — in order to further reduce the welfare state’s pull effect which, as nativists charge, is a major reason why migrants and “bogus refugees” seek to enter Western Europe.

    The ultimate objective is to completely shut down the “suction pumps” — “pompes aspirantes,” as the National Rally likes to put it — such as generous welfare benefits that are held to be the main reason migrants are attracted to Western Europe. Nativists justify their position by claiming that the influx of migrants and the resulting growing ethnocultural diversity threaten to weaken social solidarity and, in the processes, undermine support for the welfare state — what in the welfare state literature is known as the progressive dilemma. It stands to reason that in the wake of COVID-19, “welfare chauvinist” sentiments have grown, even if the absence of reliable survey data prevents a conclusive statement.

    Given these trends and developments, it is probably safe to say that with COVID-19, the “opportunity structure” for radical right-wing populist mobilization has considerably improved. Whether or not this will actually benefit the radical populist right at the polls depends to a large extent on their ability to exploit the political opportunities the pandemic has opened up. The November election is likely to provide the first tentative answers.

    During his tenure as president of the United States, Donald Trump has provided ample evidence that he is the paragon of a radical right-wing populist leader well versed in eliciting some of the worst impulses and affects in human nature. As Frank Bruni has recently put it in The New York Times, “Trump has shown America its resentments. He has modeled its rage.” This explains to a large extent why his appeal among substantial parts of the American electorate remains strong until today. Trump’s amazing staying power, despite his glaring incompetence and lack of positive human emotions, has largely been based on his uncanny ability to sense the grievances and resentments of his various constituencies and turn them into a simplistic narrative of victimization, with himself as the prime victim.

    Populism is a particular style of politics that to a large extent plays on affect and emotions. The gamut is wide, ranging from anxiety, fear, anger and resentment to disdain and contempt, to name but the most important. One, however, is of particular importance in contemporary radical right-wing populist discourse: nostalgia. Nostalgia is that yearning for a happier past “when the world was still in order,” as the Germans like to say. In the United States, these were the days of “Leave it to Beaver” and “Happy Days,” the world evoked in “American Graffiti” and “Diner.” These were the days when a factory job could still guarantee a middle-class life, complete with a house, two cars and two-and-a-half children.

    These were the days when men were still men, women knew their place in society, gays did not dare to come out of the closet, and marriage was limited to a union between a man and a woman. These were the days when the United States was the dominant world power, economically, militarily, even culturally, with Western European audiences were glued to “Dallas” and “Charlie’s Angels.” These were the days when Americans had reason to claim that theirs was “the greatest country in the world.”

    Today, only those Americans who have never set foot out of their neck of the woods, who still believe that Ontario is part of the United States, would subscribe to this notion. For the rest, the realization has sunk in that America is no longer what its cheerleaders on Fox News claim it to be, that the nation is not only coming apart at the seams but increasingly falling behind the rest of advanced capitalist countries and thus no longer attractive as a destination.

    Take, for instance, the case of Norway. In 2018, Trump made it known to the world that he wished for more Norwegians to come and settle in the US rather than all those migrants from “shithole countries” such as Haiti or the African nations. As it turns out, Norwegians — hundreds of thousands of whom migrated to the United States in the 19th century — waved off Trump’s invitation. In 2016, a mere 500 Norwegians moved to the US, 10% less than in the previous year.

    The End of the American Dream

    For the past several decades, a large number of Americans have deluded themselves in believing that theirs is indeed the greatest country on earth. Even Trump’s famous slogan, “Make America Great Again,” apparently failed to alert them to the fact that the tag line might indicate that America was no longer great. And if it actually did, they could always claim that if America was no longer what it used to be, it was all Obama’s fault or the result of an evil plot by the left. Reality, however, tends to be tenacious and rather impervious to spin. Ironically enough, it is that reality which to a large extent explains Trump’s continued appeal.

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    In fact, numerous studies over the past few years have shown that what permeates American society is a profound malaise, which to a large extent has preceded the current pandemic. As a Pew study from early 2019 put it, “Looking to the Future, Public Sees an America in Decline on Many Fronts.” At the same time, the Trump presidency, despite all of its bluster and hype, has done nothing to reverse these sentiments. In September, less than 30% of likely voters thought the country was going in the right direction — virtually unchanged from the last year of Barack Obama’s presidency. And yet, Trump has remained politically competitive and might still win the November election. It would be intellectually dishonest to claim that there is one indisputable explanation for why this is the case. The fact is that there are numerous plausible explanations, all of which throw light on different parts of reality.

    This brings us back to Ernesto Laclau’s theory on populism, particularly his notion of the empty signifier briefly mentioned earlier on. Laclau’s take on populism is to start with the most basic unit of analysis, disparate grievances and demands expressed by ordinary people. If the political establishment fails to meet them, these unsatisfied grievances and demands, particularly if they establish a common denominator — “they could care less about us” — create what Laclau calls a “frontier,” a gap between those below and those on top, which is the perfect basis for populist mobilization.

    In order to understand these dynamics, it is necessary to proceed in two steps. The first step regards the socioeconomic and socio-structural conditions and developments that have given rise to grievances and demands. The second step regards the nature of these grievances and demands, and how they play themselves out politically. One word of caution, however: Not all grievances and demands are the result of recent developments. Some of them have been simmering for a long time, until they found an outlet in the presidency of Donald Trump.

    One of the most widely cited explanations of the outcome of the 2016 election is Diana Mutz’s study from 2018. Mutz advances two arguments. On the basis of empirical evidence, she postulates that Trump’s victory was informed by both a “perceived status threat by high-status groups” — white Americans of European stock — and “American insecurity about whether the United States is still the dominant global economic superpower.”

    Status Loss

    This is hardly the first time that there is a strong sense of decline in the United States. Already in the late 1980s, there were similar concerns, only that time with respect to Japan and Western Europe. Task forces were set up at prominent institutions like MIT, commissioned to examine what had gone wrong and come up with ideas of how America could regain its “productive edge.” With the boom of the 1990s, fueled by the dotcom bubble, the concern with decline quickly dissolved in thin air.

    Today, the situation is fundamentally different. With the rapid ascent of China, the United States is faced with a substantially more serious challenge. As Joseph Nye wrote a year ago in the Financial Times, “Many in Washington, both Republicans and Democrats, fear that the rise of China will spell the end of the American era. This exaggerated fear itself can become a cause of conflict.” Nye was skeptical about China’s potential to pose a serious threat to the United States anytime soon. Others less so,  above all Donald Trump. His increasing belligerence toward China reflected not only personal acrimony  but a broader irritation with the fact that “an economic system different from the U.S. has succeeded so remarkably.”

    There are, of course, a number of quite real reasons for American anxieties and irritation when it comes to China. For one, China has become America’s main creditor, holding hundreds of billions of US debt. Secondly, there is a sense that China is largely responsible for American deindustrialization. To be sure, this is largely bogus. Deindustrialization has a number of causes, most prominently perhaps the pervasive influence of financialization. But it is far easier to blame China than confront domestic failures and shortcomings.

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    Deindustrialization is, of course, one of the major drivers of the second development identified by Mutz, the perceived loss of status by hitherto relatively high-status groups. Much has recently been written about the importance of status loss for explaining the success of radical right-wing populism. The mechanism, as Sarah Engler and David Weisstanner describe, is fairly straightforward: “The relative deterioration in material conditions … translates into a lower subjective social status of vulnerable groups who then turn towards the radical right.” In the past, loss of status resulting from socioeconomic modernization affected primarily routine blue-collar workers, losing out to competition from cheap labor in developing countries. Today, the range of potential victims of globalization is much greater, reaching all the way into professional groups. This is to a large extent due to the rapid pace of innovation in emerging technologies, such as robotics, AI, 5G and nanotechnology, to name but a few.

    What all of these technologies have in common is that they are highly capital-intensive, digitalized and increasingly automated. This means that they are unlikely to benefit traditional blue-collar workers. On the contrary, like earlier offshoring and outsourcing of industrial production, the emerging automation-driven economy offers few opportunities for low-skilled workers performing routine tasks that are easily robotized. Even worse, with robots “increasingly able to perform not only manual and routine cognitive tasks but also non-routine manual and cognitive tasks.”

    AI-driven automation is expected to threaten even skilled workers, albeit to a lesser extent than oftentimes claimed. Those who benefit most from these developments are highly-educated, high-skilled workers, particularly if well-versed in STEM disciplines, which allow them to perform tasks that are complementary to automation, such as robot design, maintenance, supervision and management.

    The socio-structural consequences are well-known from earlier rounds of technological and organizational innovation, such as the introduction of CNC machinery, CAM/CAD applications, flexible manufacturing systems, just-in-time production: the devaluation of formal degrees (high school diploma, bachelor’s degree, vocational degrees), structural unemployment, early retirement, regional disparities and growing inequality.

    As a result, a growing number of working-age persons have been left with the impression that they have become “structurally irrelevant,” their skills and experience obsolete, their labor no longer needed, their place of home “landscapes of despair.” Take, for instance, oil drilling. In 2014, oil prices fell precipitously. As a result, a large number of oil industry workers lost their jobs. When oil prices rose again, many of them were never recalled. Because of automated drilling, only a fraction of the initial workforce was needed. Of 440,000 workers, roughly half never found their way back. The same has happened, albeit on a smaller scale, in the coal industry, which Trump promised he would save. The opposite happened: Many mines shut down during his tenure, accelerating coal’s decline and leaving hundreds out of work.

    Resentment Exhausted?

    The decline of America’s coal industry provides another glimpse into the dynamics of American decline — the decline of the American male. With the collapse of the coal industry in large parts of the United States, the status of men has fundamentally changed. In the past, as a recent report in The New York Times on the situation of coal mining in the Appalachians describes, coal miners had good jobs, “with good benefits and an income approaching six figures when all the overtime was added.” The men worked underground, the women stayed home to take care of the children.

    With the closing of the mines, the gender balance was completely reversed. While men were laid off, women went back to work. Men were left with the impression that their “very identity” had been “declared insolvent.” Dan Cassino, of Fairleigh Dickinson University, has persuasively shown that men who feel their masculinity threatened react in a particular way. They refuse to do the dishes, buy guns, refuse to wear masks, and vote Republican. They epitomize in the starkest of terms possible the decline of world marked by the likes of John Wayne, Gary Cooper and Clint Eastwood.

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    Radical right-wing populism is above all a politics of resentment. Resentment is one of the most potent emotions as an impetus of populist mobilization. Donald Trump has been a master in provoking, stoking and capitalizing on resentment. Resentment is provoked by a profound sense of injustice, of a strong sense of being ignored, if not being taken seriously. This is the central message of a number of studies that have appeared in recent years, from J. D. Vance’s “Hillbilly Elegy” to Katherine J. Cramer’s “The Politics of Resentment.”

    It also explains the continued support for Trump on the part of American evangelicals and devout Catholics despite his horrendous moral flaws. For decades, both groups have been the butt of jokes, their beliefs ridiculed, their concerns dismissed. In Donald Trump, they found a presidential candidate who projected himself as on a mission from God dedicated to restoring Christianity’s rightful place at the center of American society. In this way, Trump appealed to wide-spread American Christian resentment against an increasingly secularized society, which embraced values with respect to marriage and the sanctity of life diametrically opposed to their fundamental beliefs.

    On November 3, the American electorate is called upon to elect its president. The choice is between a patently populist incumbent and a representative of the establishment. No matter who will win the election, one thing is clear: The grievances that propelled Donald Trump into the Oval Office four years ago have not been met. Quite the contrary: The COVID-19 pandemic has only but added to the malaise endemic to American society’s mood over the past several years. Trump’s presidency has done little to nothing to alleviate this malaise. Resentment still dominates American politics — a politics more polarized than ever. Under the circumstances, it is difficult to imagine that the United States is going to regain the confidence and bravado that once made it the greatest country in the world.

    *[Fair Observer is a media partner of the Centre for Analysis of the Radical Right.]

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy. More

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    Trans and Non-Binary Voters Face Disenfranchisement in US Election

    In the United States, trans and non-binary people’s voting rights are under threat from strict photo ID laws or harassment at polling stations. As November 3 approaches, the impact of such restrictions looms large for the status of the country’s democracy. To have credible democratic elections, they must be free from discrimination, particularly regarding the ability of historically marginalized groups to participate. It is essential that steps are taken to mitigate this impact in the next two weeks and that changes are made for future elections. 

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    In the US, 36 states have voter ID laws, with 18 of those requiring a photo ID; notably in North Carolina and Pennsylvania, strict photo voter ID laws were recently struck down. These ID laws significantly affect transgender voters who may have difficulty obtaining an ID that accurately reflects their name, gender and appearance. As a result, transgender citizens with identification documents that do not match their gender may be turned away at the polls. By some estimates, approximately 42% of eligible transgender voters do not have identification documents that reflect their name and gender.

    Disenfranchisement

    When it is permitted, the administrative process of updating voter identification cards can also be onerous and involve significant financial and administrative hurdles for trans people, discouraging voting. At least 14 states have burdensome requirements to alter the gender section on IDs, including a court order, proof of gender-affirming surgery or an amended birth certificate. This is despite the fact many trans people do not want, cannot access or afford surgery or other gender-affirming care. In addition, as a result of the COVID-19 pandemic, a lot of gender-affirming procedures have been put on hold as non-emergency care and surgeries are postponed.

    These requirements potentially disenfranchise hundreds of thousands of trans citizens. The UCLA Williams Institute notes that “In the November 2020 general election, over 378,000 voting-eligible transgender people may face barriers to voting due to voter registration requirements and voter ID laws, including 81,000 who could face disenfranchisement in strict photo ID states.” These difficulties have only been exacerbated by the pandemic when courts and the Department of Motor Vehicles offices closed across the country for weeks, hindering the process of updating identification documents.

    Of course, the potential for disenfranchisement is even higher for transgender people facing other vectors of oppression related to their race, criminal history, ethnicity, age, income or ability. For instance, as Human Rights Watch notes, the practice of disenfranchising felons and of removing inactive voters from the rolls can disproportionately affect transgender voters who experience housing insecurity and incarceration — often due to the criminalization of HIV transmission or sex work — at higher rates.

    Transgender people also often face harassment and discrimination at the polls, even from poll workers. Human Rights Campaign found in 2019 that fear of discrimination has led “49 percent of transgender adults, and 55 percent of trans adults of color to avoid voting in at least one election in their lives.” This fear is not without basis. The Williams Institute also found that after presenting inaccurate IDs at a polling station, many experience voter suppression: “Respondents reported being verbally harassed (25%), denied services or benefits (16%), being asked to leave the venue where they presented the identification (9%), and being assaulted or attacked (2%).”

    Ensuring Equal Access to Suffrage

    Access to suffrage, regardless of gender identity, is fundamental to democracy, and all undue constraints on who can vote should be eliminated. While the responsibility this November will, unfortunately, fall primarily on trans and non-binary voters to create a voting plan that may include voting by mail when possible, it is the state’s responsibility to ensure equal access for these communities.

    Across the globe, there are models on which to base reform. In several countries such as Argentina, Colombia and Denmark, citizens can self-determine their gender on their IDs. In Malta, there is also an “X” or third gender/decline-to-state option for passports. Having this third option is extremely important for including trans and non-binary voters, yet in the US, only 19 states and the District of Colombia allow residents to select a non-binary option on their driver’s licenses. Further, changing one’s gender on an identification card should not require proof of medical intervention and should be based solely on self-identification.

    In addition to these longer-term reforms, there are also opportunities to prevent discrimination against trans and non-binary voters in this electoral cycle. Advocacy groups should continue to encourage members of the LGBTQ+ community to become poll workers. Simultaneously, the government should train all poll workers on interacting with transgender and non-binary voters and ensuring that they are not denied a ballot. Notably, voters can also report any intimidation at the polls to the nonpartisan Election Protection Coalition at 866-OUR-VOTE. These steps can ensure that members of these communities will feel safe going to the polls and making their voices heard.

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy. More

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    Does Beijing Prefer Biden or Trump?

    Few major events occur in the world now occur without China having a stake, directly or indirectly, in their outcome. That is because Beijing has become a force to be reckoned with, and its influence has grown to rival or even surpass that of the US in many parts of the world. Just as elections throughout the world have historically implied some sort of impact on Washington, now the world is becoming accustomed to the same being true for Beijing.

    The US presidential election is certainly no exception. At least part of the reason that matters to Washington is because, for the first time since America became a global superpower, it now has a proper peer. The former Soviet Union may have been a military peer, but it was not a peer on any other level. That is not true with China, which now rivals the US in some arenas or is on its way to doing so. In some aspects of science, technology, the global economy, diplomacy and political influence, Beijing is already more consequential to much of the rest of the world than America is.

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    Given its single-minded focus on creating an alternative world order crafted in Beijing’s image, as well as the tremendous resources it is devoting to that task, there is little reason to believe that China’s trajectory will change in the coming decade and beyond. One could argue, in fact, that the outcome of the election matters almost as much to Beijing as it does to America, for it will define the type and scope of headwind Beijing faces for at least the next four years.

    A second Trump term of course implies more of the same: trade war, challenging Beijing at every opportunity, the war of words, and not giving an inch on anything. But it also implies four more years of discord and disarray between America and its many allies. Both America and China have paid a serious price for having Donald Trump in the White House, but Beijing has certainly benefitted while Washington has suffered from the fractious nature of America’s relationship with its allies.

    Under a Biden presidency, that is likely to be greatly reduced, which should concern Beijing a lot, for it has enabled the Communist Party of China (CPP) to act with virtual impunity on the global stage while America and its allies passively look on. That is what has enabled Beijing to expropriate and militarize the Spratly and Paracel Islands, bulldoze its way into more than 70 countries without opposition via the Belt and Road Initiative, and significantly increase its influence in the world’s multilateral organizations, among other things. That damage has already been done and, in truth, there is relatively little Joe Biden or any subsequent US administration may be able to do about it.

    What Biden can do in response is repair those alliances and lead an effort to coordinate and unify the West’s future responses to Beijing’s actions. It is by acting in unison that the West will not only get Beijing’s attention, but begin to reverse the tide. Beijing has few real allies, and some of its “allies” have dual allegiances between Beijing and Washington. When push comes to shove in a time of crisis, Saudi Arabia, for example, is not likely to pivot in Beijing’s direction, despite China’s growing economic ties with the kingdom. The same is true with a variety of other allies that China believes are in its camp but which Washington has cultivated over the decades. Beijing is a new arrival to the party.

    So, what is at stake for Beijing is an unfortunate choice: endure four more years of Trump’s tirades or (at least) four years of a US administration that values America’s alliances and intends to reinvigorate them. Biden is not likely to try to reverse the course Trump has embarked upon with Beijing. That ship has sailed. US Congress is on board with Trump’s contention that Xi Jinping and the CCP are bad actors and that the Chinese government is America’s greatest adversary. Biden’s foreign policy is unlikely to be substantively differently oriented.

    In that regard, while this is undoubtedly the most important election of most Americans’ lifetimes, it is also crucially important for Beijing. The gloves are off on both sides and they are not going to be put back on. The question is, does Beijing prefer Trump or Biden? While the answer is probably neither, knowing that bilateral relations are not going to revert to where they were under Barack Obama, Beijing may actually prefer Trump over Biden in the hope that the damage done to America’s alliances may become permanent. In the meantime, the CCP will continue to use Trump to whip up nationalism at home, which of course suits its ultimate objective of strengthening Xi’s and the CCP’s grip on power.

    *[Daniel Wagner is the author of “The Chinese Vortex: The Belt and Road Initiative and its Impact on the World.”]

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy. More

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    The New York Times Confesses to Paranoia

    In carrying out its mission to promote themes dear to the Democratic Party establishment, The New York Times has produced a slick video on voting technology. The document counters US President Donald Trump’s claim that the 2020 election will be rigged. The video’s title sums up its case and sets the tone: “This U.S. Election Could Be the Most Secure Yet.”

    Some viewers may notice that the verb “could” contains some serious ambiguity. In contrast with “will,” “could” expresses deep uncertainty. This should tip off viewers that they may be in for a rhetorical ride as they sift through the strong innuendo and shaky evidence of the nearly 14-minute video.

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    It doesn’t take long to realize that the entire thesis is built on two sweeping generalizations with nothing to back them up. The first is the assertion in the title that the US presidential election will be secure. It wants us to feel convinced a serious problem has been solved. The second is the thesis that can be found in so many Times articles that the only problem with US democracy is Russian interference. 

    Early in the video, we meet the first figure of authority, David Sanger. His title appears on the right side of the screen: The New York Times national security correspondent. He authoritatively announces the gist of the problem: “The Russians managed to get us paranoid about the security of our own election systems.”

    Here is today’s 3D definition:

    Paranoid:

    In the world of journalism, a productive mental state that incites editors and journalists at The New York Times to produce an unending series of stories that blame Russia for every political problem in the United States.

    Contextual Note

    The self-confessed paranoiac Sanger is immediately followed by David Becker, the executive director of the Center for Election Innovation and Research (CEIR). He informs viewers that all is well in the asylum thanks to this reassuring message: “I think it is safe to say that this is the most secure election we’ve ever held in the United States.” In case the viewer isn’t sure whether this unknown personality can be trusted, the video editor provides a caption in the middle of the screen with an arrow pointing to Becker’s head. It says, “Expert.” The curious will have to Google CEIR to learn that Becker’s institute was funded by Mark Zuckerberg, the founder of Facebook. Google will also lead them to stories that tell the true story about voting machine vulnerabilities, such as this one.

    Once we are reassured by what the “expert” thinks, the voiceover reminds us that vigilance is still required because the Russians are still there. “In 2015, Russians infiltrated our voting in every single state,” the female voice tells us against a background listing the states, whose names, one by one, flip from black to red (the color everyone associates with Soviet Russia). Then comes a curiously honest disclaimer: “Now, there’s no evidence Russians altered votes but… .” The “but” is followed by Sanger offering the analogy of a cat burglar that “got into your house and cased the joint but didn’t take anything.” Russia is a cat burglar.

    Embed from Getty Images

    All of the above occurs in the first minute of the video with 13 more to come. It leads to Sanger’s ominous rhetorical question, “Could the Russians actually affect the vote?” The cat burglar will of course return. Suitably alarmed, the viewer is now prepared to hear the heroic story that will follow of a brave woman in Texas who is about to save the nation from the Russian threat.

    Apart from the sophisticated video editing worthy of Madison Avenue, the heavy-handed messaging of this video can best be compared to… Soviet propaganda. (What else, since it’s all about Russia?) The opening sequence alone merits careful rhetorical analysis. It plays on questions asking with no answers, suppositions with no evidence and speculation that things not only could have gone awry in the past but might go awry in the future, while neglecting the real history of US elections manipulated not by Russians, but by Americans.

    The voiceover mentions dire interference by the Russians in 2015, suggesting that it can explain Trump’s election in November 2016. Sanger had previously called this “one of the most successful intelligence operations in modern history.” But the voiceover also admits that this hadn’t changed any votes. How could one of the most successful operations in history have produced no result? No matter. The point was simply to justify the alarming question: “Could the Russians actually affect the vote?” Though no answer is given, we assume that it should be yes.

    The rest of the video turns around the premise that voting machines may be unreliable, which means that Russians (and only Russians) could hack them. The idea that Republicans, Democrats or mafiosi might hack them is never raised.

    The video then goes on to develop the moral tale of a brave woman in Texas who fought for new technology with a “voter-verified paper trail.” She tells us about “a rough world out there in the elections voting system business” without noticing that the problem may have something to do with mixing business and election procedures. We learn about how the established actors, sharing a monopoly on technology designed to exclude a paper trail, successfully stifled competitive innovation, until the dramatic moment when the forces of good succeeded in imposing a better technology now in use in some places (but not everywhere).

    At this point, the voiceover reminds us of an essential truth proving that all’s well that ends well: “It took Russia’s hacking to improve our voting technology.”

    Historical Note

    Over the past two decades, the investigative journalist Greg Palast has done more focused work than anyone in the public eye to expose the scandal of election manipulation in the US. Unlike The New York Times, he didn’t wait for Russian manipulation of the 2016 presidential election to get to work.

    In December 2003, Palast clearly identified the danger that was emerging. It stemmed from President George W. Bush’s 2002 reform — the Help America Vote Act that imposed voting machines as the national norm for elections. Bush, a Republican, hoped for something more manageable than Florida’s controversial hanging chads as the means for turning future elections in his party’s favor. Democrats voted for the bill. Since then, in election after election, including Democratic primaries, Palast and others (including Robert F. Kennedy Jr.), have provided documented evidence of both parties finding ways of exploiting the technologies for their particular needs.

    Back in 2003, Palast correctly predicted that the machines would be conducive to rigging and highlighted the critical factor: “The administration has put to death any plan that would allow you to have some type of backup paper ballot or receipt.” Seventeen years later, The New York Times — always abreast of the latest news fit to print — attributes this insight to an election clerk in Austin, Texas, who, after 18 years of using the paperless machines, came to the conclusion that what was missing was “a paper trail.”

    David Sanger’s claim that “the Russians managed to get us paranoid” is only half-true. The evidence clearly shows that The New York Times is paranoid. Even in yesterday’s edition, The Times revived a debunked theory about Russian interference with US diplomacy across the globe. For the past four years, The NYT has demonstrated its unbending fixation on blaming Russia for every problem in the US, starting with the unanticipated election of Donald Trump in 2016.

    What is untrue is the idea that the Russians are responsible for The Times’ paranoia. It’s more likely that The Times’ paranoia was a preexisting condition. But a third hypothesis may be closer to the truth. It was the Democratic Party seeking an excuse for Hillary Clinton’s loss to Trump that encouraged The NYT to go paranoid.

    Or maybe it isn’t about paranoia at all, but cynicism. In today’s hyperreal news cycles, even the Gray Lady needs sensationalism and false drama to sell their reporting. The mere presence of Trump created a permanent background of sensationalism. For The Times, in its service to the Democratic establishment, the idea of grafting evil Russia onto the Trump pantomime could only be a godsend.

    *[In the age of Oscar Wilde and Mark Twain, another American wit, the journalist Ambrose Bierce, produced a series of satirical definitions of commonly used terms, throwing light on their hidden meanings in real discourse. Bierce eventually collected and published them as a book, The Devil’s Dictionary, in 1911. We have shamelessly appropriated his title in the interest of continuing his wholesome pedagogical effort to enlighten generations of readers of the news. Read more of The Daily Devil’s Dictionary on Fair Observer.]

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy. More

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    The New Policy of Demoting Democracy

    In November 2000, the battle between George W. Bush and Al Gore for the US presidency was deadlocked over the status of a few thousand votes in Florida. Gore had won the popular vote, but the margin of victory in the Electoral College depended on Florida. In that state, Bush held a very slim lead of only 537 ballots. The Democrats wanted a recount of the votes in Florida. The Republicans didn’t. The case went to the Supreme Court. In December 2000, in a 5-4 decision, the court stopped the recount in Florida and awarded the election to Bush.

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    At the same time, halfway around the world, a young East Timorese activist was sitting in a US-sponsored democracy seminar. He was bored and frustrated. As the activist recounted to me several years later, the American presenter was lecturing his audience on the virtues of the US model of democracy.

    Finally, the East Timorese activist couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up in the question-and-answer period and said, bluntly, “Pardon me, but why should we take what you are saying seriously considering what’s going on in Florida?” The American presenter didn’t have a good answer.

    Flaws in US Democracy

    The 2000 election exposed a number of flaws in American democracy: the disproportionate influence of the mysterious Electoral College, the highly politicized nature of the Supreme Court, the impact of money and lawyers and patronage systems. American democracy boiled down not to the choices of the voters but to the fact that Bush’s brother, Jeb, was the governor of Florida and conservatives held a slim majority on the Supreme Court. The democratic principle of one person/one vote was overridden by the reality of one brother/one Supreme Court justice.

    President Bush went on to become one of the greatest cheerleaders of democracy promotion abroad. The Bush administration claimed that its war on terrorism was bringing democracy to Afghanistan, to Iraq, to the whole Middle East. In the end, this campaign of democracy promotion brought a good deal of war to those countries, but not a lot of democracy.

    Embed from Getty Images

    Today, 20 years later, the United States faces another election that promises to showcase yet again all the flaws of American democracy. But this time it’s not just the inherent unfairness of the Electoral College system, which awarded Donald Trump the presidency in 2016 even though Hillary Clinton won the popular vote by nearly 3 million votes. This time, as I’ve written, Trump is doing everything he can to subvert democratic institutions to remain in office — by lying, stealing votes, inciting violence and simply refusing to vacate the White House.

    Unlike Bush, President Trump has shown no interest whatsoever in promoting democracy around the world. He has made friends with dictators like Egypt’s Abdel Fattah el-Sisi and autocrats like Russia’s Vladimir Putin. He has ignored gross human rights violations like the ethnic cleansing of Rohingya Muslims in Myanmar. He has gutted the State Department’s capacity to support democratic reforms and institutions globally.

    The Impact

    So, Trump’s attempt to subvert democracy at home is entirely consistent with his disdain for democracy abroad. The question is: What impact will the mess surrounding the US elections have on the future of global democracy?

    First of all, the effort to push the US model of democracy has not necessarily produced a lot of democracy around the world. Where democracy has taken root, it has been largely through the efforts of local movements, not foreign advisers. For instance, the US government supported authoritarian leaders in South Korea for decades, and it was only the efforts of the Korean people that brought democracy to the country. The same holds true for South Africa, Chile, Ukraine and many other countries.

    Where democracy promotion has failed, such as in Libya, the results have been catastrophic. Anarchy and civil war have flourished, not free-and-fair elections. Countries like Russia and China, meanwhile, have painted US democracy promotion as interference into sovereign affairs and suppressed indigenous civil-society organizing accordingly.

    So, perhaps the US retreat from democracy promotion won’t have much impact globally. It might even have the opposite effect. With the United States no longer pushing from the outside, pro-democracy activists on the inside will no longer be easily accused of being pro-American spies and thus might have greater room for maneuver.

    The disillusionment of democracy activists concerning the US might also be beneficial. The current preoccupations of the United States — over the peaceful transfer of power and the political manipulation of supposedly non-partisan institutions — send a strong message that democracies are not perfect, democracy is a process not a final state of affairs and the United States is not morally or procedurally superior to other countries. Democracy activists, in other words, can’t expect the US to wave a magic wand to end tyranny. They have to topple dictators and build democracy largely on their own.

    Lessons for US Activists

    These are all lessons for activists in America as well. If Joe Biden wins next month and then manages to take office in January, the US will be focused for some time on repairing its own democracy rather than messing with the political systems of other countries. Trump has done much to undermine the faith that American citizens have in democratic mechanisms like the security of elections, the oversight of Congress and the independence of the judiciary. A Biden administration will have a lot of work to do just to restore these democratic guardrails, not to mention winning back a minimum of international respect for the US after four years of plummeting approval for both the president and his country.

    In the wake of Trump’s democracy demotion, the most important task for a Biden administration would be democracy promotion at home. If the next administration can repair American democracy, it would suggest that perhaps the authoritarian wave that has swept over much of the world — Russia, China, India, Turkey, Thailand, the Philippines — has hit a high-water mark and might even be receding.

    The polls suggest that American voters are ready to send Trump packing. Let’s hope that people around the world, having watched the impact of Trump’s demotion of democracy on the United States, will reject the politicians in their own countries who advance Trump-like agendas as well.

    *[This article was originally published by Hankyoreh and FPIF.]

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy. More

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    US Election 2020: The Fight of the Machines

    Donald Trump is a cult leader with a following of millions. In the minds of cult followers, their leader, by definition, can do no wrong — all his actions are automatically right. The leader has a prophetic vison and a direct line to the divine. They are not bound by the rules and laws that lesser people have to follow. Jim Jones, David Koresh and Donald Trump all fit this description — in the opinion of their followers.

    Trump’s following is vastly greater than Jones or Koresh, partly because he is a US president but also because social media and the artificial intelligence (AI) that backs it has vastly magnified his powers, possibly beyond the point that even he realizes. For Trump’s disciples, social media filters out any contrary news about their chosen one and feeds them undiluted negativity about his opponents. Trump’s devoted followers exist in a bubble where Democrats are flesh-eating pedophiles or Marxist revolutionaries, and where Trump has been chosen by God to save America.  

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    For the evangelicals, Trump has been sent to fulfill the prophecies of Revelation and usher in the end times. No amount of fact-checking or reality will penetrate. For his followers, Trump is always right, incapable of doing wrong and uniquely gifted to lead them to the promised land. Those who do not understand this are either souls waiting to be saved or, more likely, those that have chosen Satan and the path to hell. Any potential pro-Trump opinion or even nascent tendency is picked up by social media algorithms and magnified and echoed back to the individual over and over, sucking them into a rabbit hole of Trumpian fantasy.

    Trump may be a fraud and a con man, but he has seized the leadership of this cult. His leadership, which in earlier years would have been mocked as an embarrassment, is instead viewed as messianic by his cult. This superhuman power enables him to command his followers to disbelieve anything in the “fake news media,” defy law and ignore social norms. He has already threatened disorder if he loses the election. America is a tinderbox of racial tension, social discord, dramatic inequality, a deadly pandemic and economic collapse. Like Jones and Koresh, Trump has the capability to precipitate disaster, but on a far greater scale. 

    The force multiplier behind this cult is the AI run by Google, Facebook, YouTube, Instagram, TikTok and all the other social media giants. The super-computers which run the AI algorithms discern our likes, emotions, prejudices, tastes, political views and sexuality. The databases they collect are huge, and the AI profile of each of us detailed and perceptive. These computers are always on, always connected, and the algorithms employed are far more powerful than we realize. They overwhelm the human ability to filter the stream of self-reinforcing messages and subtle exploitation of our subconscious, wherever you fall on the political spectrum. The continuous social media feed that surrounds each of us in a bubble of “reality” is in fact highly subjective, tailored individually and continually reinforces our own beliefs and prejudices. Cult members exist in an individually crafted matrix. The singularity may have already arrived.

    The singularity is the point in the future when AI overtakes human intelligence and becomes self-replicating. This was thought to signal the rise of the machines and an existential threat to human existence — think of Arnold Schwarzenegger in “The Terminator.” Stephen Hawking warned that “the development of full artificial intelligence could spell the end of the human race.”

    The AI revolution has enabled both the Trump cult and its opponents to flourish to the point where society has fragmented into warring factions who believe the others are out to destroy them. Instead of the machines fighting us, the machines have devised a way to make us fight each other, and the November election is shaping up to be a key battle.

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy. More

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    Reworking US Policy in the Middle East and North Africa

    US foreign policy has shifted dramatically from just a brief 20 years ago. This is not the making of Donald Trump, Xi Jinping or Vladimir Putin. Rather, they are symptoms of forces that have been building since the post-Soviet era. With the ascendency of the US as the global superpower and the “Washington Consensus” as the pillar of economic development, it was easy to assume that Pax Americana was our legacy to the world.

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    In less than three generations, we are now less sure of our leadership and concerned — as are other nations — with the contradiction of a great power festering internally. Yes, the US certainly retains the world’s strongest military, economy, number of Nobel Prize winners and sometimes even Olympic gold medals. But America’s leaders are unsure of its place in the world, and they disagree on key issues: climate change and the environment, sustainable economic growth, support for international organizations, reengineering the social contract and similar deep-seated concerns.

    The US in the Region

    It is no surprise that there are many opinions on what US foreign policy in the Middle East and North Africa (MENA) region will look like under an administration led by Joe Biden or Donald Trump. The only clear agreement is that there is no going back to 2000, 2008 or 2016. The world has changed in many respects. While we can discern a pattern of Trump’s preferences, Biden’s policies would reflect what he and his team learned from their time in the White House under Barack Obama and, hopefully, what he has learned in his almost 50 years of being in Washington. 

    Opinions about a return of Trump’s world vision run the gamut from doomsday to what could be better? For example, writing for Brookings, Thomas Wright exclaimed that “a second Trump term would make a lasting impact on the world right when it is at a particularly vulnerable moment. U.S. alliances would likely crumble, the global economy would close, and democracy and human rights would be in rapid retreat.”

    Embed from Getty Images

    This is hardly the view of the president’s supporters. They believe that international alliances, the global economy and promoting democracy and human rights have not secured stability or prosperity for the US, so why continue with policies that do not serve America’s vital interests? This brings us to the nub of the question: What are those interests that are literally worth fighting for?

    On the macro-level in the MENA region, it used to be simple: Israel and oil, with a secondary nod to trade and arms sales. This is no longer the case. Trump has put Israel on the road to control over its future by pressuring Iran and Hezbollah, continuing bilateral defense arrangements that enhance Israel’s qualitative edge, sealing the normalization of relations between the Israelis and some Arab countries, and ensuring that the UN Security Council will never pass another annoying resolution challenging Israel’s worldview.

    In world energy markets, Saudi Arabia has found itself outmaneuvered as the US can shift the supply paradigms to Asian markets by increasing its exports, which now makes America a more dangerous competitor than Russia. Even in arms sales and commerce, the US finds itself in tough competition with Russia, China and a host of regional producers — from Turkey to France and the UK.

    Regarding who are US allies and who are not, it appears that Trump favors leaving the Middle East and North Africa to its own devices, which includes supporting leaders who reflect his values of disdain for democratic limitations on their exercise of decision-making. This includes Turkey’s Recep Tayyip Erdogan, Egypt’s Abdel Fattah el-Sisi, Saudi Arabia’s Mohammed bin Salman and the UAE’s Mohammed bin Zayed. Trump’s penchant for transactional diplomacy is well illustrated by his treatment of the Kurds, Iraqis, the Syrian opposition, Turks, Iranians and others, often viewing diplomacy as a zero-sum competition.

    Does this mean a Trump foreign policy in the MENA region is without merit? Not if you are a supporter of Israel’s security, a hard-line approach on Iran’s dysfunctional role in the region and beyond, pro-arms sales as a tie that binds the US to its friends, and ending what seem to be “endless wars” that make no sense to many American voters.

    A Second Trump Administration?

    If Trump wins a second term in office, his administration would further refrain from direct action in places like Yemen, Libya, Jordan, Morocco, Tunisia, Algeria and Egypt, again focusing on the benefit to US interests as the guiding principle. For weak states like those in North Africa as well as countries such as Lebanon, it will continue to be a tug-of-war within the State Department as to how best to support US interests in any bilateral relationship. The bigger the country (Egypt), the better endowed with energy resources (Algeria) or the more likely to be convinced that normalizing ties with Israel will be tolerated by its citizens (Sudan), the more attention it will get. As has been noted by a former US ambassador, “This will become a major priority of the next Trump administration and they will make foreign aid contingent on normalization agreements.”

    How this shakes out for Morocco and Saudi Arabia, both of which are targets of US-Israel diplomacy, is not clear as the two countries have special ties to Jerusalem not easily superseded by realpolitik. Don’t plan on seeing any reduction in US support for the Saudis in Yemen unless the Senate goes to the Democratic Party, which may force the president to deal with his friends in the Gulf.

    Embed from Getty Images

    Somalia remains an outlier, although its fits and starts toward democracy may draw the attention of policymakers who realizes the threat of the geostrategic encroachment of China and Russia in the Horn of Africa. As for Mauritania and Djibouti, like many Americans, most members of Congress can’t find them on a map, which leaves these countries open to the jaws of Russia and China.

    The great powers game in the MENA region is just beginning to be engaged as China has expanded its ports to the Red Sea and the Mediterranean. Its economic diplomacy is making inroads in a long and patient march to North Africa. Russia is not leaving Syria anytime soon and will continue to press Lebanon and Egypt to accept military assistance, as it will also do in Iran, much to the detriment of US–Israel interests.

    It would be quite short-sighted to minimize the roles of Iran and Turkey as regional powers in being able to affect key issues: Libya, Lebanon, Syria, eastern Mediterranean energy, Hezbollah, Hamas, the Muslim Brotherhood, Qatar, the use of mercenaries, arms sales and taking risks that are considered illogical to some Washington policymakers. Each must be considered on its own terms and with a close eye on their often expressed interests and weakening domestic support. While a paper can be written on each of these countries, suffice it to say that a second Trump administration will have to use much greater diplomatic finesse in convincing Erdogan to work with rather than against Washington’s interests.

    And a Biden Administration?

    The biggest challenge to an incoming Biden administration is to indicate how it will retain the best policies of the Obama administration while introducing initiatives that will strengthen perceptions of US commitment to act decisively. Many people in the Middle East and North Africa look at President Obama’s hesitation to act firmly in Syria and Libya, the hands-off treatment over Hosni Mubarak in Egypt, and the uneven commitment to human rights as indications of weakness and inconsistency.

    A Biden administration would begin from a different set of values that define different interests than the Trump White House. Ironically, Joe Biden’s values have more in common with the internationalist agendas of Bill Clinton, George W. Bush and George H.W. Bush than with the current Republican administration. The cornerstones of Biden’s platform include the primacy of diplomacy, building relationships and alliances, emphasizing multilateralism for conflict-resolution, and greater attention to human rights and rule of law.

    As an open letter of endorsement for Biden by former US ambassadors and Middle East experts states, while “each country faces its own unique issues, the core complaints of poverty, corruption, and a scarcity of freedom are a common challenge.” Many of Biden’s positions are aspirational — for example, assuming that the right combination of sticks and carrots will bring Iran back to the bargaining table while Russia and China are already working to bolster their regimes militarily and economically.

    Promoting human rights and democratic values are front and center, but one wonders how those values resonate with the current generation of leaders, many of whom ignore and suppress expressions of dissension and calls for change. Part of Biden’s pledge is to support economic and political reforms, which may be opposed by those regimes he seeks to move toward. These reforms include greater inclusiveness and economic development for the young, women and marginalized groups.

    Biden claims that his administration would not countenance regimes that deny the basic civil rights of their citizens, nor ones built on widespread corruption and cronyism or those that meddle in the affairs of neighboring states. There is a gnawing fear among pro-Israel Americans that he will veer from his traditional uncritical support for Israel and insist on an end to actions that undermine the possibility of a two-state solution between the Israelis and Palestinians. These include halting the construction of Israeli settlements in the West Bank and stopping the annexation of Palestinian territory. Biden has already noted that he will restore economic and humanitarian assistance to the Palestinians and reopen the US Consulate in East Jerusalem that serves the Palestinian communities.

    Embed from Getty Images

    Regarding Lebanon, the former vice president favors assisting its civil society and citizens to develop and implement policies that will be inclusive, and also supporting a dynamic state that reflects democratic values of equality and fairness. He mirrors the Trump administration in promising to continue support for the Lebanese armed forces. Biden also recognizes the need to sustain extensive humanitarian assistance to Syrian refugees and host communities in Jordan, Lebanon and Turkey. What Biden won’t do, according to his statements, is continue to tolerate support for Saudi Arabia’s war in Yemen and its pursuit and punishment of dissidents and critics inside the kingdom and elsewhere.

    While no specifics are mentioned regarding Biden’s policy on Syria beyond “standing with civil society and pro-democracy partners on the ground,” his campaign platform maintains the role of US leadership in the coalition to defeat the Islamic State group and restore stability and promote a political solution in partnership with others in the region.

    Although not an Arab country, Iran plays an outsized role in the Middle East. Biden has already noted that he will renegotiate the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action — the 2015 nuclear deal with Iran — with a broader focus on ending Tehran’s regional interference, support of terrorism and militias, and production of missiles. A similar agreement tailored to the specifics of Erdogan’s endgame in the region is also critical if any of the goals mentioned by a Biden administration are to be realized.

    While these goal statements are well-crafted, the lack of details — while understandable — raises concerns considering challenges, such as needing to reenergize a dispirited US diplomatic corps, indifferent or hostile players in the region, and unsure allies in Europe and the Middle East and North Africa. The critical need to focus on America’s domestic economic and psychological revival in the coming years will also compete with international priorities. Of course, the disposition of the races in the Senate and House of Representatives are also critical to closing the gap between aspiration and implementation.

    The authoritarian regimes in the MENA region prefer the devil they know. Yet the youth, women and those who are marginalized are desperate for changes that incorporate their aspirations and are built on equality, justice and opportunity. Donald Trump and Joe Biden are both known in the Middle East and North Africa. It will be quite interesting to see how the region reacts on November 4.

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy. More

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    The Rise and Fall of US Democracy

    A functioning democracy requires an educated, informed population that understands its role in the processes that define how the democratic nation is governed. Ordinary citizens have two opportunities for actively participating in those processes. They can run for office or help those who are running for office get elected. And they can vote. Most people settle for voting. Actually, in the best of years, only slightly more than the majority of eligible voters actually vote. American democracy has never fired on all its cylinders.

    The failure of half of Americans to participate is surprising because America has sedulously made the effort to educate its future voters. From day one, every schoolchild in the United States learns not only that the form of government they live under is a democracy but also that it is a regime defined by its commitment to freedom. Teachers, seconded by the media and the politicians who appear in the media, relentlessly drill into them the idea that the US is uniquely free, in ways that no other nation can claim. Americans possess unbridled freedom to speak out and to act, even in socially eccentric ways. For some, it even includes the freedom to shoot.

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    Although democracy and freedom are not synonymous, every schoolchild is taught to believe that they are. This has created a curious phenomenon in US culture: the idea that what they have is less the freedom to speak out, act and influence their community than the freedom from interference by other people — and especially by the government. In other words, many Americans understand that the most fundamental freedom is the freedom to be left alone. Instead of defining the individual’s field of possible action and participation, in their minds, democracy defines the right to avoid all action and participation.

    The Art of Democratic Identity

    Children who enter first grade and learn for the first time that they live in a free country may be left wondering what an unfree country is. A literal-minded 6-year-old — such as this writer who entered first grade during the Cold War — may naively wonder why, in a country that our teacher insisted is free, we have to pay for the things we consume. After all, any child who had ever been to a restaurant, a movie theater or a hotdog stand could sense what Milton Friedman would later affirm: There’s no such thing as a free lunch.

    My teacher’s message, of course, had nothing to do with the price of things. We would learn about price, cost and value later. Like our parents, one day we would have a job, a house and a dog and be saddled with the task of fending for ourselves in a competitive world. We weren’t quite prepared to understand that our teacher’s riffing on the fact that we were a “free country” was, at the time, simply about the fact that another country with nuclear capacity, the Soviet Union, wasn’t free. We children knew nothing about Russia, the Iron Curtain, communism, capitalism and everything else that was talked about on the news, mainly because we watched cartoons on television. Our exposure to Cold War propaganda was only just beginning.

    On that first day of school, we began the task of memorizing the secular prayer that would kickstart the learning process every day of our schooling for the following 12 years: the pledge of allegiance. Its syntax was incomprehensible, but it sounded comfortingly patriotic. The abstract idea of allegiance was too much for our young minds to deal with. But the key words, beginning with “the flag,” offered something concrete and allowed us to begin to understand that our job was to learn to comply with a system we couldn’t yet begin to understand.

    “The flag” had meaning because we could see it in front of us, whereas “the Republic for which it stands” remained a mystery. Even “one nation” failed to make much sense to any of us since we hadn’t yet studied the Civil War — a moment in history when there were briefly two — but clearly one seemed to be the right number of nations to belong to. “Under God” confirmed what most of our parents had already told us, though the idea of who that being was differed from family to family.

    It was the last six words of the pledge that held some meaning and still resonate in people’s minds: “with liberty and justice for all.” That’s when we began to learn what it meant to be a democracy. This became reinforced later, when we began studying the salient facts of history, including the importance of the first three words of the Constitution: “We the people.” The picture of a democratic society where people, on the one hand, are free (both to vote and to be left alone) and, on the other, treated fairly and equally, combined with our belief in the goodness of the complete system, had begun to fall into place.

    Every official text we would subsequently discover, starting with the Declaration of Independence’s proclamation that “all men are created equal,” delivered the message that we, the citizens (or at least those who could vote), collectively controlled the form of a government that would protect us from various kinds of evil forces. Among those evil forces were, historically speaking, the European monarchies to the east against whom we revolted, and the rampaging Native Americans to the west.

    The first group, the European kings, defined the enemy in our battle for freedom in the 18th century. The second group, the Indians on horseback, defined the 19th-century enemy. Once those two had been neutralized, all that was left in the 20th century, following our victory over the Germans and Japanese in World War II, was the Soviet Union.

    Things had now become remarkably simple. We were a democracy that thrived thanks to our freedom, and especially the freedom of our markets. The Soviet Union was a communist dictatorship with a five-year plan. We were consumers with the widest possible range of choice who knew we would be left alone to consume whatever we chose. Moreover, they were atheists, and we, despite our freedom to believe or not believe, were “under God.” They had the mission of spreading across the globe their elaborate system of government interference in every aspect of everyone’s lives. In contrast, we knew, as President Woodrow Wilson had clearly established decades earlier, that our mission was to “make the world safe for democracy.”

    Reconciling Democracy and Predestined Greatness

    Unlike the Soviets, we had the power to elect our leaders. They had a single party, the Communist Party. We had two, a consumer’s choice. We understood the principles of democracy. The first of those principles consists of having a constitution with a bill of rights. The second is to have regularly planned elections permitting to choose which of the two parties we wanted to be governed by. Any wonderful and wild idea was possible, so long as one of the two parties embraced that idea.

    Communism, of course, or its twin sister, socialism, represented impossible ideas, not only because they made no sense in a consumer society, but because neither of the parties would embrace such ideas. Nevertheless, some feared that the Democrats might be tempted by socialism or even communism. And so, enterprising politicians committed to the idea of democratic choice invented the House of Un-American Activities, making it clear to political consumers — i.e. voters — that some choices, deemed political heresy, would not be available in the political marketplace. Heresy can, after all, happen in a free country that is also “under God.”

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    Throughout our schooling, our teachers and textbooks led us to assume that the nation’s founders, like Woodrow Wilson more than a century later, had one mission in mind, though with a more local focus: making North America safe for democracy. According to the narrative we received, it was in the name of democracy that the Founding Fathers decided to break away from the despotism of the British monarchy. This created the enduring belief that the founders were visionaries intent on creating what would later become known as the “world’s greatest democracy.”

    It’s a trope US politicians today never tire of repeating. The Democrat, President Harry Truman, may have been the first when he uttered the phrase in 1952, just as the Cold War was picking up steam. He cited America’s “responsibilities as the greatest nation in the history of the world.” Like George W. Bush, Mitt Romney and any Republican, President Donald Trump deems the US to be not only “the single greatest nation in the history of the world” but also “the greatest economy in the history of the world.” In contrast, this year’s Democratic candidate for the presidency, former Vice President Joe Biden, more modestly characterizes it as merely “the greatest nation on earth.” Perhaps he hasn’t studied history as carefully as Truman and Trump have.

    It isn’t clear whether Cassius Clay, before becoming Muhammad Ali — who famously boasted he was “the greatest” — was inspired by patriotic politicians at the time vaunting the economic power and military prowess of the nation or whether today’s politicians who keep insisting on greatness are inspired by Ali. Donald Trump is not the only American to resonate to the idea of greatness. In every domain, Americans seek to determine who is the GOAT, the Greatest of All Time. There must always be a winner, someone who is totally exceptional.

    American exceptionalism is not just an idea. It has become a dogma that leaders must embrace. Violating it or even trying to nuance it can prove disastrous. At a press conference in Europe in April 2009, fielding a question from a Financial Times reporter, newly installed President Barack Obama tried to limit his patriotic hubris when he said, “I believe in American exceptionalism, just as I suspect that the Brits believe in British exceptionalism and the Greeks believe in Greek exceptionalism.” This was too much for many Americans, such as Republican Louisiana Governor Bobby Jindal and Fox News, who saw this as proof that Obama wasn’t a true believer in American exceptionalism. How could he dare to reduce the nation’s prestige to that of has-been countries like the UK and Greece?

    The Historical Truth

    At the nation’s very beginning, the founders sought and fought simply to create a nation that was no longer attached to Britain. It was a first step in the direction of just wanting to be left alone. They grappled first with the idea of how whatever emerged might define itself as a political entity. After that came the question of how it should be governed. Because of the diversity of the colonies, the founders could agree on the idea of dispersed authority, leading to the idea of a federation that could be thought of as a single federal state. They also, and nearly as emphatically, agreed that it was not about democracy.

    In 1814, John Adams, a revolutionary leader and the second president of the United States, famously responded with this curt judgment to one of his critics who berated him for maligning democracy: “Democracy never lasts long.” Lambasting what he referred to as the “ideology” of democracy, Adams expressed his horror at “democratic rage and popular fury” and insisted that democracy “soon wastes exhausts and murders itself. There never was a Democracy Yet, that did not commit suicide.” The chaos of the French Revolution, which they considered an exercise in democracy, had left a bad impression on the minds of the Founding Fathers.

    Alexander Hamilton, who died prematurely in a duel 10 years before Adams drafted his letter to John Tyler (but who miraculously came back to life on Broadway in a rap-based musical comedy exactly two hundred years later) emphatically agreed with Adams: “We are a Republican Government. Real liberty is never found in despotism or in the extremes of Democracy.” Both men had studied ancient history and witnessed the chaos of the French Revolution. Hamilton concluded: “The ancient democracies in which the people themselves deliberated never possessed one good feature of government. Their very character was tyranny; their figure deformity.”

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    The idea of democracy got off to a bad start in the young republic. And yet, most Americans today assume that US democracy was born with the drafting of the US Constitution. Even if the Founding Fathers clearly stated their preference for the idea of a republic ruled by a patrician elite and sought to define the young nation as fundamentally the opposite of a democracy, for generations, Americans have tended to believe that the Constitution embodied and validated democratic principles.

    Obsessed by the attribute of greatness, Americans also continue to believe that the US deserves the title of “the world’s greatest democracy.” This is a notion that has the potential to irritate people who are not American. Last year, Dutch blogger Moshe-Mordechai Van Zuiden, writing for The Times of Israel, bitterly contested the insistence on American greatness. He lists 10 reasons why the US electoral system in no way reflects the ideal or even the messy reality of effective national democracies.

    After excoriating a two-party system offering “only a choice between two people widely despised,” as happened in 2016 and may even be the case in 2020, he makes a more fundamental complaint: “Top Dog Wins is not democracy. It’s a dictatorship of the majority.” All of the 10 points made by this brash Dutchman are well taken. Despite their national pride, more and more Americans are ready to agree.

    The Last Election

    Americans are clearly unaware of the fact that the revered founders believed that if democracy were to take hold, it would lead to the collapse of a fragile nation. The president who successfully marketed the idea of democracy for the first time, changing the course of America’s political culture, was Andrew Jackson, the president Donald Trump most admires (after himself). It was during Jackson’s presidency that Alexis de Tocqueville wrote and published “Democracy in America.” Thanks to the French aristocrat’s writing and Jackson’s deeds, including displacing and sometimes massacring native tribes, the label stuck.

    It subsequently became dogma that the United States not only is a democracy but exemplifies the ideal of what democracy should be. Abraham Lincoln went on to provide the concept of democracy with a permanent advertising slogan when he called it a “government of the people, by the people and for the people.” By the time of Lincoln and the imminent Emancipation Proclamation, the idea of “people” had taken on a much broader meaning than at the time of the drafting of the Constitution.

    As Van Zuiden and others have pointed out, the electoral system in the US was never designed to function as a true democracy. Nevertheless, the belief was solidly instilled that democracy was in the nation’s DNA. It has withstood numerous assaults along the way and only recently begun to reveal some serious flaws that risk undermining Americans’ unquestioning belief in its virtues. For future observers of US history, the illusion of democracy as the basis of government may technically have expired in December 2000 when nine Supreme Court justices, and not the people or even the states, elected George W. Bush as president. At the time and amid such confusion, few had the courage to acknowledge that Bush’s election reflected a permanent change in their perception of democracy.

    The chaos of this year’s election, characterized by the twin evils of a persistent pandemic and the personality of Donald Trump, may well be the election that dispels all remaining illusions. In 2021, a new approach to understanding the relationship between the people and the nation’s institutions will most likely begin to emerge. The rupture with past traditions has been too great for the old dogmas to survive intact.

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    It’s impossible to predict what form that seismic shift in the political culture will take. It now looks more than likely — though prudence is still required — that if democratic processes play out according to recognized rules, Joe Biden will by the 46th president of the United States. But there is no guarantee that democratic processes will play out in any recognizably legitimate way, partly because the COVID-19 pandemic has created a physical barrier to the already troublingly chaotic conduct of traditional elections whose results pass through the archaic Electoral College, and partly because President Donald Trump will be highly motivated to disturb, delay and possibly cancel whatever validated outcome emerges. But further complications and a practically infinite series of complementary risks are lying in the offing. The risk of uncontrollable civil unrest, if not civil war, is real.

    Whatever the official result of the presidential election, whether it becomes known in the immediate aftermath of November 3 or sometime in January, it will be the object of contestation and possibly unpredictable forms of revolt by the citizens themselves. Like any episode of social upheaval, there is a strong chance that it will be quelled.

    Biden’s Dilemma

    But even if quashed and silenced, it certainly will not be resolved. The most favorable scenario for neutralizing the revolt of the Trumpian right would be a landslide victory for Biden, with the Democrats retaking control of the Senate while maintaining and increasing their majority in the House. But even so, the losers will certainly cry foul.

    A resounding majority for Biden and the Democrats would nevertheless buttress what remains of the population’s belief in democracy, legitimizing Biden’s claim to govern the nation. But even in the best of scenarios, a landslide would still leave Biden in a fragile, if not precarious position. Biden has done next to nothing to unite his own party. A Democratic victory will incite the young progressives to contest his legitimate control over an aged and aging party establishment. Gallup reports that “Americans’ frustration with the parties is evident in the 57% of Americans saying a third party is needed.”

    That figure has been stable for at least the past 10 years, but the level of frustration has been magnified by the presence of uninspiring candidates in both parties. As governing structures, both dominant parties have been seriously fragilized in the past two elections, the Republicans by Trump’s successful assault on their traditions and the Democrats by the nearly successful challenge of Bernie Sanders and the party establishment’s resistance to change.

    If elected, Biden will be challenged on the right by the combined force of fanatical believers in Trump as the messiah and hordes of libertarians appalled by the prospect of more “big government.” He will be challenged on the left by the progressives who not only oppose his tepid policies but no longer believe in the integrity of the Democratic Party. If it was just a question of managing the personal rivalries within his party, as it was for Bill Clinton and Barack Obama, all might be fine. But with a prolonged pandemic, an out-of-control economic crisis, increasingly lucid and effective racial unrest and a growing anti-establishment sentiment across much of the right and the left, reinstalling the establishment that preceded Trump and restoring faith in its ability to govern will be a task logically beyond the capacity of 78-year-old Biden.

    The End of an Era

    And those issues only begin to define the challenges Biden will be facing. In an essay in The New Criterion earlier this year, James Pierson observed the very real potential for social collapse: “Yet today the United States seems headed in a different direction: toward pluralism without consensus — a nation-state without a national idea — and towards animus among racial, religious, regional, and national groups.” In his article, Pierson deftly summarizes the history of the nation from the convergence of disparate colonies into a “union” and its need for imperial expansion to maintain its unity. Historically speaking, both convergence and expansion are no longer what they used to be.

    Pierson claims that before the Civil War and the victory of the Union forces, the US had not really decided what it was. He asks the question, “what was it: union, republic, or empire — or a combination of all three? Whatever it was, it was not yet a nation.” He claims it only became a nation-state “over a ninety-year period from 1860 to 1950, an era bookended by the Civil War and World War II, two great wars for liberal democracy, with World War I sandwiched in between.”

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    Pierson credits Abraham Lincoln with creating the democracy that eventually came to dominate the world in the 20th century. Although assassinated by John Wilkes Booth before he could begin to implement his plan, Lincoln effectively created a political culture or system of belief that has only begun to fray in the last few decades. Pierson describes Honest Abe’s ideological triumph. “Lincoln envisioned a nation held together by a ‘political religion’ based upon reverence for the Founding Fathers, the Constitution, and the Declaration of Independence.” It was a nation “held together by loyalty to political institutions and abstract ideals.’”

    Pierson believes that that stable system began to dissolve after 1950, when what had been clearly a WASP (White Anglo-Saxon Protestant) culture began to lose its capacity to impose its norms. He concludes, somewhat nostalgically: “It is no longer possible for the United States to go forward as a ‘cultural’ nation in the form by which it developed between 1860 and 1950. Whether or not this is a good thing is beside the point: it has happened, is happening, and will continue to happen.” And then, fatalistically, he adds: “These developments leave the United States without any strong foundations to keep itself together as a political enterprise — in a circumstance when its increasing diversity requires some kind of unifying thread. What will that be? No one now knows.”

    Pierson’s description of cultural decline echoes the thesis of Samuel Huntington’s book, “Who Are We?” It expresses a sentiment that Trump exploited with his slogan “Make American Great Again.” Pierson seems to recognize that a return to the good old WASP order, wished for by Huntington and Trump (and perhaps Pierson himself), is simply not going to happen.

    Joe Biden has promised to provide the thread that will unify the nation. Pierson believes that’s an impossible task. Others, focused on the possibilities of the future rather than a nostalgia for the past, claim it can be done. But Biden, though more conciliatory than Trump, clearly lacks the vision and the personality required to achieve it. And, of course, another Trump victory would only fragment the culture further and faster.

    The obvious conclusion should be that there is little choice for a politician who wishes to survive intact other than to move forward boldly and accept to resolve some serious historical ambiguities and overturn a number of institutions that have created a situation of political sclerosis and accelerated cultural decline. There are plenty of ideas to work with. Some of the younger members of the Democratic Party have demonstrated the kind of energy needed to achieve success. And the population will not be averse to change if they see it is intended to cure the disease and not just temporarily relieve the pain. The opioid crisis has at least taught them that mere pain relief is a dead end.

    The problem is that there will be resistance, though it will not come from the people. They know what they want. A majority wants to see expanded choice and at the very minimum a third party, simply because they no longer trust the two parties that have been running the show. An even clearer majority supports single-payer health insurance. A majority among the younger generations and possibly the entire population expects a serious and thorough response to climate change. But as the actions of past presidents have demonstrated, changing the way of life of a society of consumers appears to be too much to ask of politicians.

    Once the dust has settled from the election — unless that dust becomes radioactive while waiting for definitive results — 2021 is likely to be a year of confused political maneuvering and deep social instability. It will undoubtedly be a period of crisis. In a best case scenario, it will be the type of crisis that enables the nation to focus on a serious project of transformation. Those who see a Biden victory as a chance to return to the former status quo will attempt to manage the crisis, but they will inevitably be disappointed.

    That includes traditional donors, Wall Street, Hollywood and the vast majority of the political class. The two-dimensional chessboard with its 64 squares that they have been playing on for decades has now acquired a third dimension. Their expertise in pushing around the same pieces, according to the same rules on the same traditional chessboard, has lost its validity.

    Fragile Simulacrum

    History has already overtaken the political potential of a fragile simulacrum of a democracy that was never meant to be a democracy. No historian tracing the events as they played out over more than two centuries should be surprised that, while maintaining the illusion of democracy, the system evolved to function essentially as an elaborate, well-armed oligarchy. The oligarchy will use every power it has in its high-tech arsenal, including new forms of apparent generosity, to stabilize those institutions that best resist the seismic forces that have already begun cracking the entire system’s foundations.

    Even if it achieves some form of success and reaches what appears to be a state of relative stability, the world it believes it still controls will be very different and will begin evolving in highly unpredictable ways.

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    Many are predicting collapse. Given the degree to which an individualistic and corporatist culture has undermined most of the principles of human solidarity, collapse may well be the inevitable outcome. But collapse of what? Will it be the supposedly democratic political structures, traditions or ideologies? Will it be the economy? Or, as the coronavirus pandemic has shown, will it be human health, to say nothing of the health of the planet?

    Voters in the November 3 election should be asking themselves not just whom they want to vote for, but a much more immediate question that is nevertheless difficult to answer. What do Biden and his future team think about all the above questions? Are they prepared? What do they seriously think they might do about them as soon as the cracks start appearing, many of which are already visible?

    In the run-up to an election, politicians are unlikely to blurt out the truth, especially if it involves taking on serious problems whose solutions will inevitably cause pain in certain quarters. They will typically try to deal with three somewhat contradictory concerns. Keep the people happy. Reassure the donors. Prepare the next round of unholy alliances just to be certain they will be able to get something done. And then the big question arises: When it comes to taking hold of the reins of power, whom will they accept to disappoint? But the real question is this, whom can they afford to disappoint?

    We are left asking ourselves whether John Adams was right when he wrote that democracy never lasts long. If Biden is elected and serves two terms (reaching the age of 88 at the end of his second term), the kind of democracy the US has created will have lasted exactly two hundred years. John Adams probably would consider that a long time.

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy. More