THE dramatic return of Donald Trump as the 47th President of the United States has still not sunk in a month after the elections. His Republican party has received a historic mandate, winning over 310 seats in the House of Representatives. The Republicans also won the Senate, effectively gaining control of both Houses of the US Congress.
A convicted felon guilty of election fraud and sued for sexual assault and defamation is now the President-elect of the world’s most powerful democracy. Trump has managed to transform fear and nationalism into potent tools of election.
Despite strong evidence of Trump’s anti-minority and anti-racial rhetoric, what explains the vote shift in his favour of the very same racial minorities he claims as a threat to the economy and wants to deport?
Do people in some perverse way see the populist as the only possible way out of their everyday miseries? Is this a result of a weak opposition or a symptom of the weakening of liberal democracies marked by identity politics in the post-socialist era since the 1980s?
Identity politics has challenged the hegemonising power structures of race and gender. To its merit, it has afforded desirable socio-political mobility to oppressed groups but has it reached its culmination in its distortion by a majoritarian populist backlash?
In its course, has the progressive left-liberal identity politics compromised on equitable distribution of resources, especially in an increasing neoliberal context? Is the way forward dependent on offering a plausible blend of cultural assertions with socio-economic aspirations?
The return of Trump in 2024 might warrant a critical look at the future of identity politics in the face of right-wing majoritarianism.
Trump’s increasing use of xenophobic, anti-immigrant rhetoric and violent language has been successful in creating a moral panic, heightening anxiety among his supporters.
He has effectively weaponised identity politics and cultural issues, thereby reflecting broader changes in the US political discourse. Trump called his opponent Kamala Harris a “DEI [diversity, equity and inclusion] hire” to replace Joe Biden. His constant attack on Harris’s biracial cultural roots not only solidified his support amongst White supremacists but prompted a pushback from his detractors.
The Harris camp emphasised the symbolic weight of her identity and the necessity of representation of Black–Asian women in the highest political echelon as a challenge to the White majoritarianism representative of Trump. Though Harris herself steered clear of using her identity as a ‘Blasian’ woman in the campaign (which became a matter of media speculation) her supporters boosted this message for her.
The rhetoric of race and gender, however, was not out of the electoral matrix. Trump accused her of using her racial identity when it was politically advantageous to do so. She branded his attacks as “his usual politics of disrespect and divisiveness”, characteristic of his earlier presidential tenure.
Interestingly enough, the fluidity of Harris' identity highlights the complexity and pressures of choosing one identity over another. Harris was cautious of not repeating the mistakes of the Clinton Campaign in 2016 and diluted her campaign’s focus on gender and racial issues in favour of her middle-class background.
She kept her focus on economic policies and welfare while simultaneously amplifying abortion issues as well. Adopting a more balanced approach, Harris aimed to foster political solidarities among diverse demographics but failed to translate it into electoral gain for her candidature.
Shocking all political observers, the chunk of vote shift among non-White groups and other demographics prompts more questions than it answers. It requires one to carefully test the limits of identity politics itself.
Red shift: Do economic factors take precedence over identity?
The Elections of 2024 proved to be a clean sweep for the Republicans, leaving the Democrats befuddled. Not only did the Democrats lose the seven ‘swing’ states, but also recorded a noticeable drop in vote share in bastions such as New York and California.
Across racial groups, the majority of White men voted for Trump but a shift was noted in African American, Latino and Hispanic men who have traditionally voted for Democrats.
There has been a gradual shift in this demographic since 2016. Further, women who were the key target of Harris’s campaign, seem to have voted less for the Democrat candidate than they did in the elections of 2020 and 2016.
According to exit polls by the Associated Press, 47 percent of women over the age of 45 voted for Trump, as well as 43 percent of women aged 18–44. More than half of White women overall also voted for Trump (53 percent).
Melissa Deckman, a political scientist and the chief executive officer (CEO) of Public Religion Research Institute, told the Reuters news agency, “The Harris campaign did not necessarily do a good job of explaining how her policies would help the middle class, or at least that message wasn’t really resonating with a lot of voters.”
Democrats rather assumed the backing of non-White groups as was the case in the 2020 elections which clearly backfired. Trump’s economic populism, on the other hand, posed a strong counter with its broad appeal to the working class population, who were dismayed by rising prices and poor living conditions.
Moreover, Trump’s strong posturing on taxes, immigration, paying off national debt (to which he himself had some contribution) and clear stand on other issues lent a semblance of stability in times of economic uncertainties.
Trump was able to ride on the massive discontent that the working class had with the Biden administration to capture the visible political anger. He effectively placed the entire blame on the Biden–Harris duo while projecting himself as the messiah of the very ‘people’ he often claims to eliminate. The non-White vote shift reflects that everyday economic concerns might not always take the backseat but become prime electoral factors.
It might even trump the larger threats posed by majoritarian racial politics. It also points to the fact that difficult economic times can result in a more ‘reactionary turn’ as reaffirmed by the rise of the global right. Thus, Trump’s electoral gain across diverse demographics suggests that the relationship between economic anxiety and identity politics assumes a new explanatory power.
There is a clear correlation here: “The more racial resentful you were the more economically optimist you became.” The aggressive rhetoric and the ‘can-do’ attitude that the populist exudes appeal to the underwhelming economic conditions the majority of the lower class finds themselves in.
Trump’s claim of “Make America Great Again” (MAGA) and a clear agenda this time around offered an outlet to the anti-incumbency sentiments against the Democrats and losing the perception game to provide a strong leader.
Convergences on issues: choiceless choice?
The political consensus on the neoliberal economy made the political opponents eerily similar. Further, both Trump and Biden–Harris echoed their support for Israel, bringing them even closer in key respects.
The former claimed that under his watch, bombings in the Middle East would never have happened in the first place. However, his statement in contrast to Harris’s conniving silence on the wars revealed not only her unclear yet clear position on the matter but also the double standards of her campaign that essentially focussed on democracy and hope.
Not only did the war create a rift within the party but it also left Arab–American voters and many Democrat-sympathisers in a moral dilemma of choosing the lesser evil often conflicting with their own identities. Michigan-based Palestinian activist Layla said that she would not be voting for any candidate “because neither Harris nor Trump has adopted a policy that clearly says the bombs are going to stop”.
A Lebanese–American activist said: “There are of course some differences in terms of abortion rights, but it is not enough to sway my vote.” Michigan, which has the largest Arab–American population in the US, is also a swing state that has swayed against the Democrats.
Ironically, the Democrats’ political positioning of higher moral ground with these contradictory practices and preaching perhaps might have done more disservice to their brand than Trump’s inflammatory rhetoric would have done his. Harris also changed her position on immigration laws from her predecessors, Clinton and Biden. She has adopted a rather muffled stance in favour of increasing security and curbing access to asylums at the borders.
This is indicative of not only an apparent lack of political will to arrive at solutions with the least possible harm but to the very desertion of political imagination in standing apart in the repositioning of political discourse the right-wing has initiated. Thus, leaving the voters with a choiceless choice.
Solidarity and intersectionality
The only issue that brought forward a clear distinction between the Democrats and Republicans was their stand on reproductive rights and other issues concerning women. Trump’s misogynist past and his close affiliation with Republican leaders who were in favour of curbing women and LGBTQI rights have been no secret.
In 2017, a day after the inauguration of Trump into the White House, US women marched against him, claiming that he represented a grave threat to women's rights. It was the largest single-day protest in US history with over three million women walking the streets of Washington.
To prevent history from repeating itself, this time around US women rallied behind the Democrat presidential candidate Kamala Harris with full conviction. The possibility of a national ban on abortion motivated women’s rights groups and triggered fear and body autonomy, abortion rights and LGBTQI issues became key electoral concerns.
However, why did the women's electorate in particular ignore Trump’s criminal background and the grim possibility of a nationwide ban on abortion? Clearly, it is a jolt to decades-long women's identity politics, particularly in the post #Me-too era.
A majority of Black women voted for Harris, more resolute than Black men who have shifted towards Trump, a nod to the gender gap in voting across racial groups. The latter saw Harris as a Black woman whose rise might disrupt the patriarchal values within their own community.
Additionally, White women who extended their support to Harris were visibly absent in vocalising their support on the ballot. Increased support for Trump among White women went against the trend of men–women voting gap as seen in both the previous elections.
Though having a Black woman’s identity, Harris did not simply target Black women but made her election rally all about the freedom of women. Such a broad framing seemed to have missed the different layers at which identity impacts the everyday existence of women.
The failure to build gender solidarities that could translate into an electoral consolidation results from the superficial attempts of Harris to push women’s agenda without providing any remedies for alleviating their material conditions.
It is an easy cop-out from taking a hard introspective look at oneself, to link Harris’ defeat to America’s sexist majority that is still not ready for a woman President.
Take the case of abortion rights. The US Supreme Court overturned Roe versus Wade, ending constitutionally-mandated abortion rights two years ago. Trump has repeatedly claimed credit for that 2022 verdict, made possible by his appointment of three conservative judges to the top court.
Both Harris and her running mate Tim Walz claimed that under ‘Project 2025’ of some of the more conservative allies of Trump, the State would monitor pregnancies, a blueprint that aims to transition the country both culturally and socio-economically.
Trump pragmatically distanced himself from the possibility of imposing a federal abortion ban. He continued to maintain that it should be left to the individual states to decide. What is interesting to note here is that along with the Presidential ballot, ten states were to cast votes on abortion rights as well.
It was almost counter-intuitive that seven out of the ten states overwhelmingly rejected the abortion ban but that did not translate into electoral gains for Harris, who openly advocated for abortion rights contra Trump.
Thus, abortion rights were an important issue but were not powerful enough to sway the electoral results in favour of Harris. This raises perplexing questions about women’s identity politics and solidarities.
For decades, body rights have been an electoral issue. To suggest that these issues do not matter any longer with this year’s election verdict might be a stretch. What can be unpacked is the framing of the issue that has overlooked the notion of intersectionality.
Though abortion and other women’s issues do concern women, especially non-White women, mere jargon of feminism and women's solidarity do not suffice. This points to the fact that narratives need an emotional charge to gain mobilisational potency. Harris’ campaign called for freedom for all, women’s rights and solidarity without addressing the hardships of middle- and lower-class immigrant women, completely devoid of the notion of intersectionality.
It also reaffirmed Trump’s claim that the ‘woke’ liberal elites do not care about the poor, further sharpening the people–elite distinction that populists rely on. Further, the lavish and extravagant expenditure on celebrity events and endorsements by the Democrats could not be justified by a party that was claiming to be of the working classes.
Harris had over a billion-dollar campaign fund— a lot more than Trump. Further, the entire culture industry of America vouched its support for Kamala Harris. She appeared on the Saturday Night Live and Call Her Daddy podcast, and was endorsed by celebrities such as Taylor Swift, Beyonce, Billie Eilish, Julia Roberts, Anne Hathaway, Cardi B. and Leonardo di Caprio.