The massive protests in the UK against Donald Trump and his abhorrent “Muslim ban” show that there is potential for building a mass, anti-racist, pro-migrant movement in the UK and elsewhere. Many of the people who attended these protests have no background in political activism, but have been spurred into action by Trump’s blatant racism and reactionary stances – there is a palpable anger, and this can play a crucial role in realigning politics in the UK.
However, anger, no matter how righteous, is not enough. It is crucial that this nascent movement from the very outset engage in serious, critical reflection and debate about what sort of politics will be necessary to challenge Trump, and the broader, systemic pathologies of which he is a particularly malignant symptom.
In this regard, one key misapprehension must be challenged from the outset: Trump and Brexit (a clumsy, now almost meaningless term) are not the same thing – failing to see this will set any emerging oppositional politics on a course of ultimate failure. John Harris and others have spun the lazy Trump-Brexit conflation, and argue that if we are angry at Trump and oppose his politics, then we (and in particular Labour MPs voting in Parliament on whether or not to trigger Article 50) must also oppose Brexit and set the UK on a different, pro-European course.
The move Harris, and others, make here is one from correct premises to wrong conclusions. The argument, seductive in its simplicity, is as follows: Trump is patently racist and we oppose him – many of the leading voices for Brexit are racist – therefore we should oppose Brexit also. The problem with this is that it erases history and context: it ignores the fact that, whether in or out of the EU, any British government would have slovenly towed the US line; that the EU itself is structurally racist; that the processes of EU integration have engendered racism and seen the growth, within the EU, of far-right parties, not as an aberration, but as a necessary consequence of the truncated sort of integration that the EU represents; and, on a very simple note, that Theresa May, now arch villain, was herself a vocal campaigner for remaining in the EU.
The premise that we oppose and despise Trump and his politics only leads to the conclusion that we should, therefore, seek to overturn the Brexit referendum result and remain in the EU if we completely fail to understand the nature of the EU, and the differing contexts that gave rise to the Brexit vote and the Trump victory.
The fundamental problem is well captured by a scene from John Steinbeck’s novel The Grapes of Wrath. In it a tenant farmer is told by a worker that his house is to be demolished and the following exchange ensues:
“I built it with my hands. Straightened old nails to put the sheathing on. Rafters are wired to the stringers with baling wire. It’s mine. I built it. You bump it down—I’ll be in the window with a rifle. You even come too close and I’ll pot you like a rabbit.”
“It’s not me. There’s nothing I can do. I’ll lose my job if I don’t do it. And look—suppose you kill me? They’ll just hang you, but long before you’re hung there’ll be another guy on the tractor, and he’ll bump the house down. You’re not killing the right guy.”
“That’s so,” the tenant said. “Who gave you orders? I’ll go after him. He’s the one to kill.”
“You’re wrong. He got his orders from the bank. The bank told him, ‘Clear those people out or it’s your job.’”
“Well, there’s a president of the bank. There’s a board of directors. I’ll fill up the magazine of the rifle and go into the bank.”
The driver said, “Fellow was telling me the bank gets orders from the East. The orders were, ‘Make the land show profit or we’ll close you up.’”
“But where does it stop? Who can we shoot? I don’t aim to starve to death before I kill the man that’s starving me.”
This poignant exchange reveals the problem we now face. People are angry, and rightly so, but they are not clear about who or what they should be angry at.
This is not to be wondered at. The system we live under operates in myriad ways to obscure, occlude and mystify the nature of power and how it operates. In this context, Trump makes things somewhat easier. He is a villain, and patently so. Obama wasn’t as blatant, yet he deported more people than any US president before him, militarily intervened in dozens of countries around the world, and was pushing the much hated TPP and TTIP trade agreements, he also, incidentally, was in favour of the UK remaining in the EU.
With Trump, now, we have an easy, minor premise: he and everything he represents must be resisted, by any and all means. However, we need to dig deeper to work towards correct conclusions about where this should lead our politics. To build a radical, anti-racist and socially progressive movement in the UK we cannot retreat into the reactionary liberalism that seeks to sustain the EU at all costs. Likewise, in the US, building an alternative to Trump cannot be premised on embracing Hilary Clinton and establishment Democrats.
We can, however, draw some inspiration from Clinton’s long-time partner in crime, her husband Bill. In his 1992 campaign for President of the US, Clinton’s team coined the famous phrase ‘it’s the economy, stupid’, and they were more right than they could imagine. To the extent that Brexit and Trump (along with Erdogan, Putin, Le Pen etc.) have something in common, it is that they represent the morbid symptoms of the capitalist system (the economy, stupid) in terminal decline.
The rise of the populist right represents a misguided rejection by angry, scared people of the status quo ante. Where the left fails to offer genuine, radical alternatives, the right prospers. The EU, notwithstanding what “some sillies” (as E.P. Thompson would have termed them) in DiEM25, Another Europe is Possible etc. would like to think, is irredeemably a set of institutional arrangements for the maintenance of this status quo. If we wish to build on the anger and passion that the nascent anti-Trump movement represents, then we must not make the mistake of conflating opposition to Trump with defence of the EU.
Trump is the enemy, but capitalism is the problem. In the coming months and years political positions will be clarified, and it is crucial that we are clear-headed from the outset. If, at this juncture, you find yourself celebrating a pillar of the Tory party, and cheerleader for austerity, for his speech against Brexit, but criticising a lifelong socialist who has consistently stood against Trump’s spiritual predecessors, because he has taken the position that the fight is not to maintain the EU, but to build a more just UK, then you may need to re-calibrate your political coordinates.
A good place to start with this would be by rejecting the simplistic, Guardian editorial line that opposition to racism necessitates support for the EU. The real fight is for a genuine alternative to Trump, and everything he represents. This means breaking with the centrist liberalism that created the conditions for Trump’s ascendancy, and challenging the extant system at a fundamental level. This is not done by pining for a mythical EU that never was, but by directing our legitimate anger against racism, sexism and the capitalist system in its entirety. This is no easy task, but it is the necessary one if the anger against Trump is to be transformed into something meaningful and sustainable.