How naïve have I been?
I remember 2016. I was one of many short-sighted liberals who whole-heartedly believed that there was no way on god’s green earth that Donald Trump could be elected. I remember waking up on the morning after the US went to the polls, to discover that I had been wrong.
I went to university that morning, and I stood outside the door to the music department’s building, smoking a cigarette, trying to catch people’s eyes as they walked past. Did they understand just how insane this was? Did the people around me feel as physically ill as I did? It was similar to the day after the Brexit referendum. On the particular morning, I walked through the streets of Hull—the city where I lived at the time—and I stared at the people around me, mistrustful of these people who had most likely voted to leave the EU in what felt like a blow of ignorant despair against myriad political structures which were at best only tangentially related to the institutions of Brussels. In both June and November of that year, I was looking to find reflection of my own political identity (such as it was at the time) in the faces of people who inhabited a world which had made decisions which frightened me.
In the heat of that antagonism I felt against the world, I — like many other people of various political persuasions — sought out a narcissistic reassurance that my identity was correct and my opponents were mistaken. I found my space where everyone agreed with me, I deepened relationships with those who saw things the way I did and I became distant and hostile towards those who differed from me. The truth is, I never wanted to understand why people voted in the way that they did: for many reasons I was simply scared.
I put my faith (this is the mot-juste for its religious connotations) in the idea that there was some essential core to society which was pushing in the direction of political progress, equality and liberation. Trump and Brexit were aberrations; once these mistakes could be corrected somehow, then normal service could resume. Normal service? What was normal service? I didn’t care to think too closely about it: I needed to believe in some theology of goodness which secured my political position.
I think now that Normal Service was the problem, and only certain political causes had the resources to thwart normal service. Funnily enough, these have been the causes which have ended up benefitting the super rich, while convincing working-class people that their interests are also served by these causes. I was naïve, I didn’t want to see it, I wanted to believe that there is a secure political reality which will save us. In my defence, I wasn’t the only one who was so mistaken.
But here we are again, with Donald Trump once again victorious in the US presidential election. How will I respond? Will I roll over once again and hope for the “grown ups in the room” to restore Normal Service? Will I preciously guard my political identity against a social reality which totally undermines it? Radical change is sweeping the world, but so far it is only in the favour of the despots, the fascists and the totalitarians. The world is changing and we have to change too: if we really believe that these empty words which we throw around—“freedom”, “democracy”, “justice”—mean something, then we must be true to whatever it is that they mean. The world is antagonistic, let’s embrace the antagonism and fight for our beliefs, rather than lying down and hoping that someone else will do it.
I slept badly last night. I wasn’t meaning to follow the American election, but I kept waking up and obsessively checking the results. I felt this morning like I just wanted to bury my head and pretend it’s not happening. But I can’t give in to that privilege when the world is even darker for the people of Palestine, the people of Ukraine, marginalised peoples of the USA. And who knows which government will fall to the fascists next? This is not a time for cowardice. This is a time to look directly at what is happening in the world and to stand against the powerful forces which want to overcome us.
I suppose I should start with a concrete call to action, but I’ve never been very good at this. I’m going to start by joining protests in order to learn from the people who have been raising their voices for much longer than I have been. I’m going to read anything I can read which will help me to understand how we got here: I’d appreciate any recommendations. If anyone wants to start a reading group on political literature which combats fascism then consider me signed up. Do not stop looking at what is happening.
James Waide 