Rage against the Machine: How Brexit and Trump show us what’s wrong but far from what’s right

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Whatever happens in next week’s presidential election in the US, one thing is certain: millions upon millions of American voters are dissatisfied with the status quo. They do not trust the ruling elite, they do not trust the corporations, they do not trust the mainstream media (even though they continue to be influenced by them) and they are disillusioned by the overall political system. Just as the Brexit vote was a one-fingered salute to the powers that be (symbolised by an unpopular Prime Minister and the inefficiency of Brussels), so too, is a vote for Donald Trump.

Arguably, for the first time in history, working-age adults in Europe and North America are poorer than their parents, are laden with more debt, have poorer access to healthcare, worse pension provisions, worse public services and must work longer hours and for more years. The job security their parents knew has been stripped away and communities have been ripped apart by the decline of industry. On their TV screens and in glossy magazines they see the rise of the super-rich and feel acutely the decrease in equity and equality.

For many, and most likely the majority, a vote for Brexit or Trump is more a vote of dissatisfaction than of positive affirmation. People see their standard of living declining rather than improving and they want to have a say. Most don’t believe that democracy is working for them but their vote is the only chance to be heard. Politicians are not to be trusted; they say one thing and mean another and only have their own interests at heart. So when one of them says it like it is and complains about the corrupt political system, when he blames immigrants and those who are different, and when he claims he’ll give us ‘our country back’, this speaks to unfulfilled nationalist sentiments. Conversely, we all want to belong; we’re just not sure what to.

Leaving the EU will not result in more power to the British people, but in more power to the ruling elite (although this could be different in a subsequently independent Scotland). The rightwing Tory government has effectively been handed a free rein to strip rights away, such as those enshrined within the European Convention on Human Rights, accelerate privatization of essential services, such as health and education, and further deregulate all-pervading multinational corporations. None of this will improve the living conditions or economic status of the disaffected. None of this will give anything back to those who so desperately want to be heard.

Similarly, a vote for Trump will do nothing for disaffected Americans; yet many of them rejoice in his unrelenting polemic against political correctness. Whether attacking Muslims or Mexicans, global warming or gun control, the media or Capitol Hill, he echoes the rhetoric of the bars and truck stops. His tax avoidance and unethical business deals are seen as assets rather than weaknesses. Even his appalling treatment of women is somehow deemed acceptable and marks him out as ‘one of the boys’. His outsider status in terms of the political establishment grants him kudos with the unheard majority. His proclamations on tax cuts will benefit corporate America far more than heartland America, and such policies will inevitably result in greater inequalities, but somehow that doesn’t really matter because he will sock it to ‘them’.

The fact that Trump and Brexit can succeed is because the viable alternatives are denigrated and discredited. Self-proclaimed socialists, such as Bernie Sanders and Jeremy Corbyn, are described as unelectable and yet they offer solutions that will directly benefit the disaffected of Michigan or Sunderland. Their appeal is significant, especially to many younger voters, and yet the multinational-controlled media dismisses them for exactly the same reason as we should be voting for them: they threaten the status quo.

Dissatisfaction with the status quo is, in fact, dissatisfaction with unfettered capitalism, free market politics, ever-larger multinational corporations, relentless greed and the false tenet of economic growth based on fiat currencies. As the naturalist, Sir David Attenborough, put it so nicely: “Anyone who believes in indefinite growth on a physically finite planet is either mad, or an economist.” The bailing out of bankers and squeezing of social services via ‘austerity’ measures have nothing to do with the fears promulgated by the likes of Trump and Farage, but everything to do with a system that is unsustainable and which will simply continue to fuel inequalities unless it is seriously tampered with or until the day it finally bursts.

But it’s far easier to continue to see the enemy as those who are different; whether the faceless victim in a far-off land ravaged by war or the one who dares to come closer to home: the immigrant. Last year the world was shocked by the image of Alan Kurdi, the three-year-old Syrian boy, whose lifeless body was swept onto a quiet Turkish beach by the unforgiving sea. As I looked at the photo of the tiny boy lying belly down on the sand, my son of almost the same age peered over my shoulder: “Juji!” he said. “No, that’s not you,” I replied. “But he does look like you.” And indeed he did. I did not go on to tell my son that the Syrian boy was not asleep. I did not tell him that he died because his parents just wanted him to be safe. I did not tell him about the pain in my heart at the thought of a child so young being left to die alone at the mercy of the elements. I did not tell him how lucky we are. But I felt it.

Until we see all people as we see our nearest and dearest and treat all people as we would like to be treated; until we see the human face of humanity; the true powers that be will continue to play us. They will continue to divert our attention from the real threat to our wellbeing: the political-economic system itself, which threatens not just our living conditions but also those of future generations and the wellbeing of the planet itself. They will continue to fuel fears of immigration and terrorism. They will continue to propagate the language of ‘us and them’.

Trump and Brexit do not represent the will of the people. They simply represent our failure to see beyond the ‘we’.

Charity: Doing good or feeling good?

It is in giving that we receive.

I have just returned home from Burundi where I encountered a rather strange Belgian woman working for a local charity. We met at a health centre high in the hills south of Bujumbura, hemmed in by steep terraced slopes dotted with tin-roofed dwellings and lonely patches of trees. I extended my hand and greeted her in my best schoolboy French: ‘Bonjour. Je m’appelle Pete.’ She took my hand in a limp, damp handshake without uttering a word. The nun in charge of the health centre welcomed us all and explained the challenges they faced concerning inadequate water supplies, her flowing white habit flapping in the wind. A schoolgirl of 10 or 11 described her daily routine of walking a round trip of 4 kilometres to collect water, unaware of the incongruity of Justin Bieber smirking up from her soiled t-shirt. The nameless Belgian was a tall, broad women who seemed as uncomfortable in her frame as she was with other people. She listened to the conversations unsmiling, showing no reaction, all the time clutching a large plastic bag to her chest. Once inside the health centre she began to surreptitiously extract items from the bag and hand them one-by-one to the nun: several pairs of plastic slippers; some bandages; a packet of pills. The nun received them graciously, expressing her gratitude.

Before leaving, the woman approached the huddle of children outside the health centre to hand them some sweets. They jumped up and down laughing and screaming, trying to grab the precious parcels of pleasure. At once, the woman’s face lit up – as if someone had flicked a switch. She ran to the vehicle to fetch her camera, all the time beaming. She returned, her smile wider than ever, transformed: almost reborn. Although I’m sure that the gifts were genuinely appreciated, I couldn’t help wondering who had received more. The entire contents of the bag could not have cost her more than $20.

This experience reminded me of another encounter a few years ago with an American school teacher in South Africa. We happened to be visiting a rural school in Guateng at the same time and she was there with various hand-outs for the children: Kansas City baseball caps, t-shirts and sweets. She ran around the schoolyard with the children, frenzied, screaming, so happy she was out of control, as if high on drugs or alcohol. She then read letters from schoolchildren in Missouri (or somewhere equally parochial) sending their best wishes and hoping their African counterparts would like their gifts. The South African children then read their own letters expressing thanks to those far-off benefactors, no doubt busy on their PlayStations and iPads as those humble children spoke their heartfelt words. I couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Why should a child in Africa feel the need to be grateful to a child in the US or the UK or Japan? Is this not as much about power as trade barriers and wars for oil? And who is the real beneficiary (a word I detest in development language) here? It seems to me that these charitable souls are receiving far more than they’re giving. That’s not to say that what they are doing is necessarily wrong but we should disabuse ourselves of the notion that it is only one party doing the giving.

 

The Challenge                                                                                                                

The day after encountering the enigmatic Belgian I found myself in an IDP (internally displaced person) camp surrounded by 20 or 30 children, all trying to hold hands with, or feel the skin of, the strange Muzungu (‘white man’ in Kiswahili). Among them was a young girl who refused to let go of my hand and bounced up and down beaming at me, seeming oblivious to the bigger children jostling for space around her. She must have been about 3 years old and yet she was shorter than my own son who is not yet 18 months. Burundi is rated worst on the Global Food Security Index and has one of the highest stunting rates in the world, with over 50% of children under five being stunted (low height for age) as a result of malnutrition.

The people in the camp were accommodated there when their homes were destroyed by floods and landslides in February this year.  They were living in basic tents provided by aid agencies. I pulled aside the flap of one tent and peered inside. There was nothing except a pile of blankets and a few items of clothing: no possessions; no gadgets; no toys. Most of the camp residents were reluctant to go home. Why should they, when they had no house; no land; no hope? Aid agencies provide essential services in the camp such as shelter, water, sanitation and food for the under-fives, but what can charity do to improve their lives in the long term? Not a lot, perhaps.

 

I don’t believe in charity.                                                                                                  

In general, I don’t believe in charity. It creates dependency and obligation and is built on unequal power relationships. That might strange coming from someone who has worked in international development and humanitarian relief, in one capacity or another, for 20 odd years (some of them very odd!). There are two exceptions, however. The first is in an emergency situation, such as the camp described above, following a flood, earthquake or conflict. I have worked for two charities – Médecins Sans Frontières and Oxfam – and in both instances I worked in emergency settings, providing water and sanitation to refugees or populations affected by disasters.

The second exception to my ‘I don’t believe in charity’ rule is more complex. This is where services which could, or should, be provided by the government or society (although of course there is no such thing according to Margaret Thatcher) are not and charities fill the gap. This happens in developed countries as well as less-developed ones. For example, regional air ambulance services and the Royal National Lifeboat Institution in the UK are registered charities. Although even here it could be argued that Government should provide these services, for me, the critical issue is when the services that should be provided are the most basic: water, sanitation, education and healthcare. Supporters of charities will no doubt argue: ‘But governments are not providing these services so we have to!’ This may be true in some cases but governments definitely should be providing them and charity may even prevent them from doing so, as it allows them to abrogate responsibility to someone else.

 

Charitable foundations                                                                                                    

Of course, the current big thing in the charity world is ‘The Foundation’. There is now a plethora of foundations established by corporations, public figures and celebrities to help those less fortunate than themselves. All noble acts no doubt. But while I’m sure that all these businesses and individuals are genuine in their desire to help others (after all, it makes us feel good doesn’t it?) and they may even do some good for some people, one can’t help but wonder whether there’s often a bit too much ego involved and if it’s more about PR than anything else. Individual billionaires and multi-millionaires collectively commit billions of dollars every year to charitable foundations for good causes, including support to the poorest countries in the world. ‘This is good news, surely?’ I hear you protest. Well, yes it is. But then again, when you have several billion dollars a few billion more or less probably doesn’t make a whole lot of difference. The key question here is: why do individuals and corporations have so much more money than entire countries in first place? (The 85 richest people in the world have as much wealth as the 3.5 billion poorest.) And what makes rich people more qualified to make development decisions than governments, development agencies or communities themselves?

Warren Buffett, once the richest man on the world and still in the top four, is arguably the biggest giver to charity, having pledged more than $30 billion to the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation alone (kudos to Mr. Buffett that he decided to give much of his wealth to a foundation other than his own). How did he make his money? By moving money around. Some will argue (and have to me) that he has lent money to business ventures that have developed innovative technologies, some of which have saved lives. Perhaps. But the fact is that he has made his vast fortune by moving money here and then there, and here and then there, without directly producing anything tangibly useful to society (which I do believe exists, contrary to Thatcher’s claim). A highly intelligent man, no doubt; but in making his money has he really worked so much harder or contributed more to society than the subsistence farmer or coal miner who toils day-in day-out for so little reward? This is no criticism of him as an individual. He appears to be a modest man and is clearly committed to helping those less fortunate than himself, to the extent that he has stated that his children will not inherit a significant proportion of his wealth, which will go to charity instead. It is, however, a criticism of the system that allowed him to amass the wealth he has.

 

The Solution                                                                                                                      

The only true solution is a more equitable and just world built on a more equitable and just economic system. Note that I say ‘more’ equitable and just. I am not so naive as to believe we will all have exactly the same opportunities and same assets. Even communism failed on that one. But I am convinced that we can have a much more equitable state of affairs. This means true fair trade (not just a stamp on a packet of tea) whereby a fair price is paid for raw materials, which are – sometimes literally – the lungs of our planet. It means more respect and more value for natural resources, less materialism and less waste (the millions of plastic bottles discarded every day are sought after possessions in rural Burundi). It also means effective taxation and wealth distribution. The profit incentive for businesses need not be removed completely but social, ethical and environmental factors must come first, and taxes should meet all basic requirements for all citizens. The priority should be economic equity (not equality) rather than economic growth. For this to work, true accountability of leaders is also needed; not just through the ballot box, which has its own limitations, but through international mechanisms to ensure that states deliver basic social services. The International Criminal Court (ICC) should not just focus on war crimes but on economic crimes (such as those of leaders who fill their pockets while their compatriots struggle in extreme poverty) which can be just as horrific and last far longer.

Unless we have sweeping economic (and political) reform, what hope is there for that little girl in the IDP camp? Can charity enable her to hope for similar opportunities as I hope for my own son? And yet, I believe wholeheartedly that she should. This will mean ‘sacrifice’ for my son, but only in terms of less possessions, less consumerism and less extravagance. And I have no doubt that he would agree happily to this if given the facts young enough and sensitized to the destructive power of commercial materialism and corporate power. It is the fear of loss that maintains the status quo.

Charities will continue to do their work, as will international development agencies, but simultaneously we must go beyond this and push for revolution of the global economic system and power dynamics. With new information technologies and an increasing disconnect between real people and the established powers (corporate and governmental), the future must belong to the crowds. Relying on charity is like placing a band aid on a severed limb; it may stem the flow here and there, but we remain incomplete, lacking our essential humanity.