Life is a lemon (And I want my money back): The failure of the Left
'No one saw it coming'. It's a convenient phrase of the Aftermath. The millions who voted for Brexit and for Donald Trump certainly saw it. They actively helped bring it on. So who didn't see it coming?
The Left-liberal elites who ran the Remain and Clinton campaigns didn't see it coming. Why?-for they refused to listen to their own people, ordinary people, dismissed as 'a basket of deplorables.'
Both with Brexit and with Trump's victory, the subsequent response of the liberals was disbelief, anger and denial. 'Who are these people?' 'What have they done?!' 'It isn't my country anymore.' Apocalypse is around the corner. Flee the land.
The attention of CNN, for example, was focussed on anti-Trump protests. Even after Trump's victory, no one seemed to be listening to the Trump voters, or ask them what they thought and felt. The liberals said: 'Oh, but what will I tell my children?' Trump supporters didn't have any such anxieties. They felt the opposite. They told their children: 'Everything's gonna be fine, we've put the right man in the driver's seat. America will be great again.'
This shutting out of the working class, even when they have delivered their verdict, is repeating the oversight of the campaign. These are the people you should have been listening to and you are continuing with that mistake of not listening even now.
So the focus in the liberal press continues to remain on stories that are about Americans coping with Trump stress. 'Take it one day at a time. You will beat the Trump blues.' According to them, Trump's win can be blamed on a rise of post-truth politics. You can't wish away reality by inventing new words. It took Obama to acknowledge the need to listen: "The lesson I draw is that we have to deal with issues like inequality, economic dislocation, people's fears that their children will not do as well as they have."
A billboard-in-neon-letters warning
No one saw it coming.
Brexit was a warning. A billboard-in-neon-letters warning.
The Clinton campaign team didn't think Brexit had any relevance to them. But it did. Now look what you have done. Take some blame. Don't blame the contemptible voter all over again.
Michael Moore saw it coming. Moore repeatedly made clear that while he didn't support Trump he could see where the supporters were coming from. He didn't agree with their solution - Trump - but he listened to them. Just days before the election, he said: "Trump's election is going to be the biggest 'f*ck you' ever recorded in human history - and it will feel good. Whether Trump means it or not is kind of irrelevant because he's saying the things to people who are hurting, and that's why every beaten-down, nameless, forgotten working stiff who used to be part of what was called the middle class loves Trump. He is the human Molotov cocktail that they've been waiting for, the human hand grenade that they can legally throw into the system that stole their lives from them."
The anger and resentment of the non-metropolitan class is captured in American singer Meatloaf's song 'Life is a lemon and I want my money back'. The song is from a different era but it does well to hold a mirror/lend a voice to the very people Trump wooed so successfully, as well as those who voted for Brexit:
It's a never ending attack
Ev'rything's a lie and that's a fact
Life is a lemon and I want my money back
And all the morons
And all the stooges with their coins
They're the ones who make the rules, it's not a game it's just a rout
There's desperation in the air
It leaves a stain on all your clothes and no detergent gets it out
And we're always slipping through the cracks
Then the movie's over, fade to black
Life is a lemon and I want my money back
The song goes on to highlight the fading certainties of everyday life, a constantly-eroding status quo:
What about hope?
It's defective! It's corroded and decayed
What about faith?
It's defective! It's tattered and it's frayed
What about your gods?
They're defective! They forgot the warranty
What about your town?
It's defective! It's a dead-end street to me
What about your school?
It's defective! It's a pack of useless lies
What about your work?
It's defective! It's a crock and then you die
The question we need to ask is: why weren't the Clinton campaign managers tuned into this outpouring of hostile bitterness? They advised her not to waste time on White Catholics. The Times reports that while Bill Clinton was eager she address the group, her campaign leaders felt that it wasn't the audience they were looking for.
Hilary's campaign largely ignored disgruntled White voters in states like Ohio, Iowa, the Florida panhandle, Michigan and Wisconsin, all of which Trump eventually would win.
The censorship of the cozy elite
What we are seeing here, both with Brexit and the rise of Trump, is a failure of the Left. It's a basic failure to engage with people, a closing off into cosy elites that are bewildered by those who don't share their liberal multi-cultural values. As author Jeanette Winterson tweeted on the morning of the Brexit result: '7am and woken up to UKIP England. Never cried for my country before. But it isn't my country anymore. Now we have to build a new Left'.
But the elite do worse than being bewildered. They censor and exclude opinions they don't like - and as we have learnt, you do this at your own peril.
The anti-Wall Street sentiment needed politicians who could channel this anger, and be seen doing something to fix the inequalities. Clinton was too close to the establishment, having delivered paid speeches to elite financial institutions. Post the 2008 global crash, Labour too was seen as doing little more than propping up the interests of late capitalism as opposed to those of ordinary people.
Right-wing politicians have understood and exploited the anger. Their solutions might be divisive, even destructive, but at least they had their ear to the ground. The liberals had earplugs and shades on. The Left was playing an enhanced virtual reality video game. Everything, it felt, was under control. Now that the virtual goggles are off, reality has hit hard. The punch in the face is hurting and will continue to do so for a long time.
So what has gone wrong with the Left? After all, the working class and its concerns ought to be its natural constituency. Sometime during Cool Britannia and the Blair era the liberal started getting too trendy for his own good. Those who lived in cities like London and New York lived in a world removed. In the words of Newsweek's Stryker Mcguire:
"As London prospered it drew closer and closer to New York. Money, people and ideas flowed back and forth between the two great world cities. Wall Street salaries, bonuses and even dress codes began to shape City life: in some instances London law firms had to double what they paid newly qualified lawyers because of pressure from the New York competition; City boys began wearing chinos and shirts open at the neck. It was not uncommon for those who could afford it to own homes in both cities. Then, as now, more money was churning through London and New York than through all the rest of the world's financial centres combined. Out of all this grew NY-LON, a single city separated by an ocean."
There's no better place to look for a critique of New Labour and fashionable Leftism than in the pop culture of Cool Britannia itself. Sheffield-born Jarvis Cocker, lead singer of the British band Pulp, is an astute social commentator. He achieves a fine balance in his lyrics where he feels compassion for the working class, looks at the world through an immigrant's perspective, and gently pokes fun at trendy liberals. As a singer/songwriter he stands outside of any political affiliation but examines his surroundings with empathetic detachment.
The xenophobic working class and the immigrant might be at odds with each other in the fight for economic resources, and yet Cocker shows us how the two have much in common. Both are outliers in society; the white working class in their own, while the immigrant is so in a foreign one, having Left her own behind:
We came across the North Sea with our carriers on our knees
Wound up in some holding camp somewhere outside Leeds
Because we do not care to fight, my friends - we are the weeds
Because we got no homes they call us smelly refugees.
Both - the white working class, and the immigrant, are at odds with the metropolitan elite.
The relationship between the metropolitan elite on the one hand and immigrants is a mixed one. In the song 'Weeds', which I quote from above, Jarvis Cocker sings about this elite, the espouser of fashionable green causes, exploiting the immigrant for sex and drugs:
This cut-price dairy produce that turns our bones to dust
You want some entertainment?
Go on, shove it up me - if you must
Make believe you're so turned on by planting trees & shrubs
But you come round to visit us when you fancy booze 'n' drugs.
As Zadie Smith writes in her piece 'Fences: A Brexit Diary' (LRB 18 August):
"For many people in London right now the supposedly multicultural and cross-class aspects of their lives are actually represented by their staff-nannies, cleaners-by the people who pour their coffees and drive their cabs, or else the handful of ubiquitous Nigerian princes you meet in the private schools.' And a little later in the same piece: 'The first instinct of many Remain voters on the Left was that this was only about immigration. When the numbers came in and the class and age breakdown became known, a working-class populist revolution came more clearly into view, although of the kind that always perplexes middle-class liberals who tend to be both politically naive and sentimental about the working classes."
No connect with the little man
This sentimentality about the working classes was something Jarvis Cocker was raging against in 1995, on the cult album Different Class (and which the metropolitan elite loved and made No.1). In 'Common People', a working class protagonist meets a wealthy girl who wants him to show her how the other half lives:
I said pretend you've got no money,
She just laughed and said,
"Oh you're so funny"
I said "Yeah?
Well I can't see anyone else smiling in here.
You'll never live like common people,
You'll never do whatever common people do,
You'll never fail like common people,
You'll never watch your life slide out of view,
And then dance, and drink, and screw--
Because there's nothing else to do
On a track called 'Glory Days', Cocker talks about the ruined hopes of the working class (as also fading national glory):
Oh we were brought up on the space race
Now they expect you to clean toilets
When you've seen how big the world is
How can you make do with this?
But it's on 'Misshapes' that he really captures working class angst on the boil; the song is an accusatory warning, a call to revolution which will not be violent. (As Moore said, voting for Trump is a legal way of registering your anger and protest, just like Brexit was.) The song, in many ways, predicts the politics of England and America in 2016:
Misshapes, mistakes, misfits
Raised on a diet of broken biscuits, oh
We don't look the same as you
And we don't do the things you do
But we live around here too, oh really
Brothers, sisters, can't you see?
The future's owned by you and me
There won't be fighting in the street
They think they've got us beat, but revenge is going to be so sweet, oh-oh-oh
We're making a move, we're making it now