In many ways, America has been here before.
At the opening of the 20th century, a Nebraska lawyer named William Jennings Bryan drew crowds totaling millions as he traveled around the country, railing against East Coast elites.
It was the tail end of the Gilded Age, a time when the country’s prosperity was booming but the lived experience of workers diverged dramatically from the bankers and railroad barons whose lifestyles grew ever more opulent. Bryan broke all the sedate norms of political campaigns, inventing the whistle-stop tour to speak directly to the public, not the press, and with the emotional force of a religious revival.
Why We Wrote This
Donald Trump isn’t the first U.S. leader to upend the status quo. Populism can awaken a nation to concerns ignored by elites. But it can also unravel institutions – from the rule of law to international alliances – that can take generations to rebuild.
This was the previous peak of American populism. And it launched decades of lasting change.
Bryan earned the Democratic presidential nomination three times, never winning the office. But his agenda thrived. He promoted many once-extreme ideas that eventually became law, including the progressive income tax and the election of U.S. senators directly by voters rather than having state legislators choose them. Many of his radical demands became the mainstream reforms of the progressive movement in the early 20th century.
Populism is a battle cry that has once again risen to a high pitch in America. And President Donald Trump is the undisputed master of the modern populist style, with perfect pitch for the grievances that are driving it.
Populism is a recurring template that casts corrupt, greedy elites against wholesome, hardworking common people. It usually involves a strong personal leader. It is always polarized and polarizing. Us against them. Populist stances are framed as a crusade of good versus evil, not as a practical negotiation of win-win policy outcomes. It’s a zero-sum game; when someone wins, someone else loses.
At its most effective, populism can shake a nation awake to concerns that elites often thought were settled or didn’t even perceive as problems, such as a sense of being left behind by the economy or feeling like a backward stranger in your own culture.
At its most risky, populism can unravel institutions – from the rule of law to international alliances – that can take generations to rebuild.
This is the populist path of President Andrew Jackson, who fired thousands of federal employees and handed out their jobs to allies and supporters. “To the victor go the spoils,” were the words by which Jackson governed. It took more than 50 years before lawmakers restored a merit-based system for civil servants. Jackson also closed down the nation’s central bank, leading to nearly 80 years of high volatility and frequent financial panics, until Woodrow Wilson created the Federal Reserve in 1913.
During his Christmas address, Mr. Trump sounded what might have been one of the most starkly populist holiday greetings in recent memory. “For the last four years,” he said, “the United States was ruled by politicians who fought only for insiders, illegal aliens, career criminals, corporate lobbyists, prisoners, terrorists, and above all, foreign nations, which took advantage of us at levels never seen before.
“Now, you have a president who fights for the law-abiding, hardworking people of our country – the ones who make this nation run.”
Unlikely times for populism?
On the surface, these seem like unlikely times for populism to flourish in America.
The country remains at the pinnacle of global wealth and power. The past decade has had the lowest average joblessness – even with the pandemic spike – of any decade over the past 50 years. Inflation has been at or below a modest 3% for nearly two years. The median wage has been rising faster than the overall cost of living. And the net worth of the average millennial, even after adjusting for inflation, is higher than that of their parents or grandparents at the same age.
Not exactly the stuff revolutions are made of.
Even as millions of jobs were created over the past decade, the total number of jobs that don’t require a college degree has dropped by 1.2 million. Non-college-educated young people are seeing their opportunities narrow.
They also see the rising population of “tech-bros” and hedge-fund billionaires. For 90% of Americans, income equality has held its own since the early 2000s. The poorest in particular have made stronger gains than other income groups. But in that time, the top 0.1% has doubled its already stratospheric share of national income. The very, very rich are pulling even further away from the field.
Rising housing costs don’t much affect the millions of families who already own a house and have a low mortgage rate. But over the past two decades, the price of the median house in America has risen more than 50% and average mortgage rates by even more. Many well-paid young people don’t see how they can ever climb those barriers to homeownership.
A recent National Association of Realtors survey put the average age of a first-time homebuyer at 40. Ten years ago, it was 31. That’s in part a sign of young people delaying getting married and starting a family. But it might also be a reason for the delay.
Many young people feel that life is not quite working out the way it did for their baby boomer or Generation X parents.
In the heyday of American optimism, President John F. Kennedy is often credited with delivering the famous phrase that captured the all-in-it-together worldview of egalitarian growth: “A rising tide lifts all boats.” That worldview has since lost ground. A recent study of more than 20,000 Americans found it being increasingly displaced by a zero-sum mindset of limited good.
This assumption, or fear, that gains for one group come at the expense of others is more dominant among young adults than for older generations and is stronger among Democrats than Republicans. It tends to be a low-trust perspective. And social trust, especially trust in institutions, has been falling since the 1960s. These outlooks are tied further to a sense of grievance or unfairness.
The latest global report from the Edelman Trust Barometer finds that a sense of grievance now shapes the worldview of 6 in 10 people across 26 countries.
“Those with a high sense of grievance are more likely to hold a zero-sum mindset towards people with different politics, with 53% saying others’ gains come at their expense compared to only 23% of those with low grievance.”
The grievances, no doubt, are varied, but many Americans feel left out of the nation’s general prosperity.
Left behind
At the extreme of disconnection from society, a Financial Times analysis of U.S. census data found that nearly 1 in 10 young adults between the ages of 20 and 24 are not in a job, not seeking work, not in school, and not raising a child. That number is 50% higher than 25 years ago.
The feeling of being left behind is even stronger among rural white Americans. Arlie Russell Hochschild, a sociologist, spent five years in the early 2000s talking to working-class, white tea tarty supporters in rural Louisiana for her book “Strangers in Their Own Land.” She described people who felt like they were waiting in a long, slow-moving line to get to the American dream, but the liberal elites who control the line keep letting so-called marginalized groups cut in ahead of them. They feel cheated.
Left-wing populism is also finding traction, especially among younger Americans. The victory of democratic socialist Zohran Mamdani in the New York City mayoral election points to this. What it might continue to sound like: “Every billionaire is a policy failure,” a slogan coined by an aide to Democratic Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez of New York, implying that such concentrated wealth could and should be spread to others.
But populism is being driven by more than economics.
American culture has moved considerably left in recent decades. Whether one dismisses Mr. Trump’s MAGA movement as a foggy nostalgia for an America before the Beatles or sees an invigorating return to Western civilization’s first principles, many want a course correction.
Few Americans want to roll back the major benchmarks of inclusivity. Support for interracial marriage, for instance, is virtually universal among Americans, at 94% to 96%. In 1958, it was 4%. Women are now well over 50% of the graduates of law and medical schools, 10 times the share in 1960. Strong majorities support the outcome of more women becoming doctors and lawyers.
But there is an argument that the progressive march overshot the national consensus. And it rolled on largely outside of the political process – driven instead by court decisions, executive orders, or policymakers in public and private institutions.
The rights that feel most “settled” in the minds of Americans are those that went through the grueling political process of legislation. Rights established primarily through the courts (such as abortion or, to a lesser extent, affirmative action) are often viewed by opponents as undemocratic, handed down by elites.
The Civil Rights Act of 1964, for instance, was hard-fought legislation. It outlawed racial segregation and discrimination, and, eventually, Americans widely came to accept its ideals of equality. But majorities have never supported racial preferences or other race-conscious remedies for past discrimination, much less the “algebra is white supremacy” level of racial doctrine. Whatever their merits, few of these went through a process that involved voting.
The long march of women’s rights involved a rich mix of legislative battles – including Title IX establishing gender equity in education – and court victories. Same-sex marriage was established largely in court but affirmed in 2022 by national legislation. It enjoys strong majority support today. On the other hand, hot-button transgender issues such as trans women playing on women’s sports teams or medically transitioning minors have not been subject to political process and have drawn major pushback.
Vast majorities of Americans also hold positive views of immigrants and their contribution to society. Equally high majorities say immigration was too high and too uncontrolled before Mr. Trump took office. Legislative action regarding immigration has been stymied for the past 35 years, leaving policy to executive orders.
Populism as a corrective
In surfacing these issues, populism can be something of a corrective to liberal democracy. Cas Mudde, a leading expert on populism and a political scientist at the University of Georgia, calls populism “an illiberal democratic response to undemocratic liberalism.”
In other words, when judges, experts, or other elites decide issues from the courts or the bureaucracy, that is essentially undemocratic – even in a representative democracy such as America’s, where voters at times face the frustration that simple majorities can’t dictate outcomes.
The populist response is emotion-driven pushback that is often illiberal – unconcerned or even antagonistic to checks and balances, the rule of law, or the rights of minorities. As Dr. Mudde explains, “Populists don’t have political opponents; they have enemies.”
By tapping into these grievances, Mr. Trump is breaking the norms of political behavior. It’s his defining signature as a public figure.
Historically, though, his violations are neither the first nor the worst.
Franklin D. Roosevelt was the first president to violate the “sacred tradition” of the two-term limit, winning election four times. He also attempted to expand the Supreme Court by as many as six seats to create majority support for his programs.
Jackson blatantly ignored a major Supreme Court decision, leading to the “Trail of Tears” as Native American tribes were ousted from the southeastern U.S.
Richard Nixon secretly used the IRS to harass people on his “enemies list.”
President Trump’s norm-breaking might be as thrilling a counterattack on the “deep state” and undemocratic liberalism for some as it is terrifying to those who fear for the very structure of American democracy under unchecked presidential power.
Mr. Trump’s populist style seems to be intuitive rather than studied or acquired. But it also could have come directly from the populist playbook of Saul Alinsky, a 1960s left-wing community organizer who dubbed himself “the Machiavelli of the poor.” He wrote “Rules for Radicals” on how to crack loose the grip of the wealthy and powerful by violating the polite norms of civility and order.
Mr. Alinsky’s Rule 5: “Ridicule is man’s most potent weapon. There is no defense.”
Rule 13: “Pick the target, freeze it, personalize it, and polarize it.”
When economic growth was slipping last year, Mr. Trump laid blame on the Federal Reserve by targeting board Chairman Jerome Powell (a Trump appointee), calling him a “numbskull,” “a Trump Hater,” and “Mr. Too Late.”
As affordability concerns continue to rise, Mr. Trump has kept Mr. Powell front and center. “When the Fed makes a mistake that costs people their homes, they shouldn’t be able to hide behind a title. We need a Chairman who listens to the people, not just the spreadsheets,” the president wrote in a December social media post.
But Mr. Alinsky also had a Rule 12: “The price of a successful attack is a constructive alternative.”
Populism is about the battle. Governing is about delivering growth and progress – that people feel includes them. It’s hard, slow work that must ultimately bring people together. And it’s happening all the time.
Marshall Ingwerson was editor of the Monitor from 2014 to 2017.
