A conversation I had with members of my
family in the late 1980s has become vivid in my mind over recent weeks. We were
living through the height of Thatcherism, when the right had a seemingly
unshakeable grasp on politics and culture, a period when the gains of progressive
politics were under attack. My relatives wanted to ride this wave of reaction
and see the death penalty restored. They were confident Margaret Thatcher would
make this happen for them.
I took a deep breath and argued with them
coolly and reasonably. But what I told them was that even under such a
government, our political leaders would not dare to bring back the death
penalty, because they knew it would unleash a level of fury amongst the
population that would rock the foundations of society – people would rise up in
opposition, and that opposition would know no bounds.
My basic message was: if you think you’re angry, bring back the death
penalty and I’ll show you what anger looks like.
They were taken aback, because they really
did think all the anger was on their side, and that the ‘woolly liberals’ they
opposed had no emotion invested in any of their
politics. They seemed to have no idea of the depth of passion their opponents
might have in their commitment to certain fundamental values.
One of the characterisations of the Brexit
campaign is that while the Remain side used reason and evidence to make their
case, the Leave campaign appealed to people’s emotions, specifically to a level
of resentment and anger about immigration and the remoteness of government. All
the anger, so the story goes, was on the Leave side.
In fact there were appeals to reason and
emotion on both sides, but undoubtedly many supporters of Brexit were irrationally
angry with people who were not like them. The polling evidence shows that the
majority of Brexiters also disliked feminism, multiculturalism and
environmentalism. The dominant narrative seeking to explain the Referendum
result has been that large sections of the electorate felt that they were ‘left
behind’, and I think this is true, but not in the sense meant by that explanation.
These people had been left behind, but not only by economic factors to do with
globalisation, but also by political progress. Their reactionary world view – framed
by misogyny, homophobia and racism – was not being listened to anymore. It had
been squeezed out of politics, as even the Conservative Party under David
Cameron sought to divest itself of its ‘nasty’ elements, and out of popular
media and culture as well. The dramatic rise in hate crime post June 23rd
provides evidence for this reading of the ‘left behind’ narrative, as many
people felt liberated to openly express their prejudice against those they saw
as ‘strangers’ in their midst.
To characterise this form of anger as only
a symptom of economic marginalisation is to suggest that if such people had
prospered under the neoliberal order these attitudes would have disappeared. But
recent events have shown us what was always beneath the surface. The racism,
sexism and homophobia we are seeing have not been caused by the Referendum – they were already there, waiting for a
cause to unite behind, and Cameron, unwittingly, supplied them with one. While
some sections of the liberal media and political class may be surprised by
their re-appearance, for other sections of the community these prejudices never
went away – they were not that far
below the surface and those communities have had to deal with them close up for
decades.
Donald Trump’s victory in the US Presidential
Election and the rise of the alt-Right tells the same story, not of the
economically left-behind but of those who felt excluded from power, influence
and significance during eight years of a black Democrat President. This is a
politics of resentment, in Nietzsche’s sense of a grudge-filled hatred, and the
misogyny, homophobia and racism during the Trump campaign and since his victory
tell us what to expect in the coming months and years – not an attack on
globalisation, but an attack on whatever gains progressive politics has made
over the past few decades.
We now realise how fragile those gains
were, how the politics of hate many naively thought had been defeated had never
gone away, and how powerful those who champion that politics now believe
themselves to be – and how far they may be prepared to go. We also realise the
weakness of explaining reactionary prejudice in terms of economic deprivation,
as a good slice of the American population who are doing very well threw
themselves behind Trump with enthusiasm, and there is little doubt that the wealthy
political elite behind Trump actively share those prejudices rather than simply
exploit them.
So how do we fight back? We must not lose
our commitment to rational argument and evidence as it is this that marks us
out, but we have seen that they are of limited use against reactionary
resentment. There are two others things we must do.
The first is simply to learn once and for
all that victories in progressive politics are always fragile, that tolerance
has never been a dominating characteristic of British political and social
life, and that these gains always need to be actively defended. What we have
here is not a radical fracture with the past, but the continuation of a long
struggle that stretches back through our collective history.
Throughout that history there has always been
only a very thin layer of Enlightenment which a small part of the population
bought into. When it comes to political progress, the truth is that a large
section of the British people were left untouched by the liberal consensus
around gender equality, gay rights and multiculturalism which emerged over the
decades.
But the second thing we must do is remember
that the gains progressive politics made over the decades, or further back in
the United Kingdom’s history, were never achieved through rational argument and
evidence alone. Those victories were won by angry people. Those of us who
campaigned against racism, sexism, imperialism, for gay rights, rarely did so
through trying to reason with our opponents – we marched, we shouted, we
picketed, we demonstrated and sometimes we rioted.
That is why that conversation all those
years ago has come back to me. Although I kept my cool, I remember the deep,
incandescent rage I felt inside that enabled me to draw a clear line which my
opponents crossed at their peril. I feel that same rage now.
And so those of us who believe in equality
and justice for all people wherever they are in the world and whatever their
history have to rediscover our anger and our passion, to push back against the
politics of resentment. We must remember that we and our predecessors only won
our battles against reactionary politics through passion, commitment and a
burning anger at injustice. It’s time to bite back.