What to do about populism??

A question has been troubling me this week.  It started with a text from my brother, with a link to an opinion essay in the New York Times.  In the context of that essay, this quote jumped out,

“Those falling behind face a serious threat to their self-worth and well-being: Not only are the societal markers of personal worth and status becoming unattainable but, according to the dominant cultural narrative of individual responsibility, this is supposedly the result of their own lack of hard work or merit.”

These are the words of German social psychologist Lea Hartwich, in an email to journalist and teacher Thomas Edsall, the author of the essay my brother sent. 

Lea Hartwich is among those invited into Edsall’s musings here about perceived threats to social status, and the relationship of those perceptions with extreme populism.  Edsall’s concern is with “right wing” populism, but he also references Danish political scientist Michael Bang Petersen’s observation that, in the 1960s and 70s, the “left wing” was associated with populist postures.
 
Dutch political scientist Cas Mudde offers a simple description of populism, suggesting that it rests in defining “the pure people” and “the elites.”  Edsall draws on a number of thinkers to make the case that as some begin to feel their social status, and with that, well-being, erode, they grow fearful and angry, and look for someone to blame. Political actors step in to draw the lines around “pure” and “elite,” and the seed of populism is sown.
  
The people Lea Hartwich describes as “falling behind,” are, according to the scholars quoted in Edsall’s piece, precisely those who join populist movements because they are experiencing a “serious threat to their self-worth and well-being,” and, salt in that wound, “this is supposedly the result of their own lack of hard work or merit.” (Italics mine.)
 
If I knew that someone for whom I care deeply was falling behind, feeling their essential well-being threatened; if I knew that they were feeling denigrated and blamed  for their circumstances, I would be terribly concerned and look for ways to offer them support.
 
But that’s not what happens, in general, when populism rears its head. In the populist scenario described in Edsall’s piece, the “pure people,” seeking a way out from under threat, join political movements that target “the elite.”  The “elite” then respond, but not, overall, kindly.

Michael Bang Petersen and his colleagues describe today's so-called elite as, “the highly educated Left in the U.S. and elsewhere [who] have been forging alliances with (sic) minority groups (e.g., racial, ethnic and sexual minorities).”*    By that definition it’s fair to say that I am one of the current elite, so I’m about to use the words us and we in that sense.
 
Here are some of the responses I see us offering to people aligning with populist movements:

·        We demonize them right back, and publicly square off, arms folded, ready for a fight. 

·        We’re bewildered, because we are, clearly, the good guys here, and we tell them that.

·        We point out the socio-historical analysis they are clearly missing, that they have been manipulated by the powerful.

·        We remind them of the relative worth of their suffering, that others have faced far worse in the course of human history.

·        We jump onto social media and call them names, making it clear that they are wholly unworthy of our respect.

Arguably none of this -- not the fight, not professing innocence, not the condescending lecture, not dismissal, certainly not the name calling -- has ever led to liberatory change. Threatening and denigrating the fearful is a ridiculous proposition. Speaking personally, when I am afraid and feeling disregarded, and someone tries to talk me out of that or dismisses my fear, my heels dig in so far I can barely see my feet.

But this is serious stuff;  paradoxically, though populism emerges from perceived and real threats to essential well-being, history has shown that it can easily lead to extreme violence and an almost universal degradation of moral and material well-being. Not responding is not an option.

And, throughout recorded human history, many wise souls have pointed out that doing the same thing with the wrong result, repeatedly, is a sure sign that things need to be done differently.  This is one of those times, calling for radically different responses, aching for innovation.

In the current populist climate, there are people across the socio-political spectrum, forget left and right, who feel absolutely, existentially threatened. I can argue all day about the relative right to that experience, but that won’t do a thing to shift the direction of change.

So the question I’ve been asking myself this week is, “If we want the direction of change to shift toward more and more people thriving, and less and less violence in word and deed, what do we need to do differently?”

Taking up these kinds of questions is what the ILI was founded to do.   We assume there are many answers, some very old and others emerging, answers that will play out in pockets of human activity as varied as policy, politics and practice; in strengthened relationships, new alliances, and shifting paradigms. We gather people to think hard together; we do research; we come up with new paths to change.

I’m grateful I have work that offers that possibility, and – in the moment, individually, in the face of my own fears, the sheer complexity of challenges like populism can stop me in my tracks.

I’ve been reminded this week: I can start (again and again) with myself, my own behavior and my own thinking. I can reach into age-old human capacities for compassion, deep humility, restorative practice, and assertive nonviolence. I can learn to recognize the difference between harm driven by greed, and harm driven fear and honest ignorance; I can learn to respond to the former with grace.

I have been troubled this week, but not upset. I mean troubled another way, as in, moved. And moving, in these urgent, scary and promising times, is exactly what I need to do.

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**I added the (sic) in this statement because I'm concerned about its possible assumptions: That “Racial” (e.g, black and brown) people make up a global minority, which is not so; that “sexual” is the same as “gender;” and that "minorities" are not among the “well- educated.” Some might cal this nit-picking; I think it’s incumbent on writers to be careful with language. I hope when I’m not, I’ll be called back into care.