Trump has returned. Naturally, his victory is being scrutinised by credentialed experts and professional commentators as it relates to the specifics of his economic, migration, and foreign policies. His staunchest critics, meanwhile, are sounding the seven trumpets of the Apocalypse, though they convince far fewer people than when they proclaimed the end of the republic after his 2016 victory. Conversely, there has been less focus on the philosophical framework of a figure that can no longer be considered a political anomaly, but perhaps the norm or model that Western politics will follow in the coming decades. For this reason, we should closely examine the characteristics of the political movement that Trump leads.
Following his defeat in 2020 and also, to a large extent, during this election campaign, many—both supporters and opponents—viewed Trump as a political oddity. However, no one can now argue such a thing. Trump’s resurgence has established the national-populist movement as a force that will shape the United States in its own image. This influence will be particularly pronounced until 2026—the date of the midterms—as the House, the Senate, and the Supreme Court are now coloured red.
The Republican hurricane that swept the land on 5 November can be attributed to a multitude of factors, some more significant than others. One of those elements is the populist rhetoric. However, the political phenomenon of Trump’s MAGA and America First movement is far more profound than his rhetoric might initially suggest. His populism, in fact, is not unique to Trump, as more and more parties—even Harris in this presidential campaign—have sought to adopt it to varying degrees in an increasing number of countries. This populist style of politics is becoming more widespread for no other reason than that it works. Understanding why would require a lengthy analysis that examines not only the supply—the parties—but also the political demand—as represented by us, the voters.
Another factor that has contributed to Trump’s victory are the policy proposals underlying his populist political style. Policy that, under other circumstances, could mostly be considered plain old-fashioned ‘common sense.’ For instance, his rhetoric on the need to bring back manufacturing and industry jobs to American soil resonates with a protectionist, nationally rooted instinct that is neither essentially Left nor Right. Additionally, his push to protect borders, reduce taxes, and simplify regulation or the size of a state burdened by trillions in debt appeals to a large swath of citizens who feel Washington is disconnected from ordinary people’s real concerns. The support for parents having a greater role in decisions affecting their children, whether educational, religious, or sexual, reflects widespread public support because it encapsulates, in apparent simplicity, what many desire in politics, without needing to align with a specific political party.
However, perhaps the most notable factor of Trump’s comeback is the role of the elites and their decline. Much as in 2016, the political phenomenon led by Trump highlights how traditional categories like ‘Democrat’ and ‘Republican’ or ‘Left’ and ‘Right’ have blurred, well evidenced by Trump’s alliance with prominent former Democrats like Robert Kennedy Jr. and Tulsi Gabbard. These categories have been transcended by privileged classes that live detached from the citizenry, while the latter watch in concern as these classes thrive through a relationship that is no longer symbiotic but parasitic. These elites live off the people, not with them; they prosper at the expense of national interests and govern against the people, rather than representing them. By elites, we mean a ruling class that dominates political, economic, and educational institutions. The unique thing about our own elites is that they have betrayed their role in society. They have lost their auctoritas and now Trump aims to dismantle their potestas.
This is a phenomenon observed in both Europe and the United States, where the political Left long ago abandoned the working class. This betrayal Democratic Senator Bernie Sanders has recently underscored in his critique of Harris’s campaign and the current state of his party. For many decades, the Left shifted the Marxist dialectic from capitalist-worker to other social groups that it instrumentalized, turning them into collectives. A resentful brand of identity politics is the rotten fruit. The issue, however, wasn’t so much the Left’s abandonment of the working class—now intelligently seized upon by the ‘New Right’—but rather the behaviour of elites betraying the very system that elevated them. Far from being a recent phenomenon, the conspiracy of elites against the people was documented by Christopher Lasch in his influential work, The Revolt of the Elites and the Betrayal of Democracy (1995).
In his posthumous work, Lasch was truly prophetic, arguing that “elites have abandoned their civic responsibilities, and in doing so, have turned democracy into a mere façade,” thereby undermining the concept of democracy itself. Lasch also accurately pointed out the contempt with which elites viewed the working class, “as if their opinions and values were merely an obstacle to progress.” He also spoke of the disconnect between elites and their roots, feeling part of a global rather than national community. According to Lasch, “the new elites have lost a sense of responsibility towards the society and local communities that raised them.” He also warned of the dangers of increasing inequality—now not only economic but also in rights and freedoms, which identity politics claims to address—and stated that democracy would not survive if this trend continued.
The French philosopher and writer Julien Benda was also prophetic, publishing The Treason of the Intellectuals (La Trahison des Clercs) in 1927. For Benda, the intellectuals or “clergy” are meant to serve as the promulgators of society’s moral compass, setting the course for objectivity and common sense. Yet, in his own time, he believed that they had “morally betrayed society, becoming promoters of political passions and national divisions.” Today, Benda’s critique would apply especially to the educational space, where both in the U.S. and Europe those who should act as beacons of rationality succumb to partisan and economic interests. The same could be said, more broadly, of mass media and institutions such as the judiciary, as seen in the lawfare against Trump—much of which, now that he has won, has been shelved.
Trump’s victory, which may mark the beginning of a long overdue purge of our corrupted elite, also reflects a deeper crisis in American democracy that, mutatis mutandis, is shared in Europe. Contrary to what the national-populist movement advocates, societies need elites as much as they need authoritative voices. Neither elites nor authorities are inherently bad; they are crucial for structuring societies, and when they deteriorate, they lead to anarchy and disillusionment. The pandemic management and subsequent vaccines were recent case studies of rapid institutional decline. Then, as with the handling of the recent storm and floods in Spain and its tragic consequences, the result has been widespread distrust in state institutions and the media, compelling citizens to inform and educate themselves to reach their own conclusions and make their own decisions. Individual responsibility is a sign of a flourishing civilisation; however, so is the presence of authorities in certain fields, given that we cannot all be experts on every relevant aspect of life, and that bearing this weight imposes an overwhelming duty of vigilance on ordinary people. Trump understands this—and so what he represents is not an assault on authority or its dissolution, but its restoration.
Similarly, Trump’s aim is not to eradicate elites but to remove those who have, in Lasch’s language, revolted against the republic’s values. His new administration seeks to anoint a new elite which, rather than betraying the people, will reclaim the role of responsible guidance that both Lasch and Benda deemed essential for societal stability. This is the real battle of our time: determining who deserves auctoritas in the polis, who merits the responsibility of leadership. Therefore, what is currently on the table in American politics is a phenomenon of elite replacement, not their disappearance.
Trump, like Lasch and Benda—or JD Vance, for that matter—seeks to create a new intellectual, moral, and business elite to guide a strong United States; proud of its past, committed to the present, and hopeful for the future. For this reason, many people, weary of establishment decay and the woke takeover of corporate and political life, have rallied behind Trump, not least Elon Musk. Even others who once embraced current secular dogmas have turned away from them. Two notable examples are Jeff Bezos and Mark Zuckerberg, who have shown growing sympathy for the president-elect. In 2016, such a thing would have been unthinkable.
The Trump phenomenon also serves as a warning for the future: without a renewal of ethical commitment from the elites and without their recognition and protection of everyone’s needs and aspirations, polarisation and resentment will only continue to fester. That said, there’s also a warning that Trump and those who, like him, use and capitalise on the effectiveness of populist discourse should consider: populism is not harmless as its price too is social fragmentation. Though discourse itself is not violent—contrary to claims of ‘violent speech’—it does affect real life. And this indeed makes American politics an anomaly, as in the U.S. does partisanship equate to sectarianism. This is a dangerous recipe in the hands of all parties, one that complicates the civic process of defining a common national project—a common good so desperately needed in the West.
