Democratic Senate candidate James Talarico

Elsewhere in this issue we write about the interesting Quebec election coming up in the fall. My own focus is on the election to our south.

On April 23, the National Republican Senatorial Committee sent a message to key donors: it had just received a “terrifying” report that could reshape the midterms. Three major battleground states – Georgia, North Carolina and Ohio – had shifted toward the Democrats: “Unfortunately, the Left is still crushing us in voter verifications and voter enthusiasm! … If we don’t close the gap RIGHT NOW, these races are only going to move further toward the Democrats as Election Day draws closer.” And they have the money to put where their mouth is.

Despite GOP efforts at rigging the election, the Democrats are effectively guaranteed a majority in the House of Representatives, where the results more or less reflect public opinion – a simple reflection of Donald Trump’s unpopularity. In the Senate, the matter is far from decided, given that in the one third of Senate seats for which there will be elections, only a few purple seats could realistically shift from the GOP to the Democrats. A 50-50 distribution after the election is quite possible, making the few toss-up elections, like that in Texas, crucial. Local Democrats need to keep these numbers in mind in planning their election strategy.

The implications are breathtaking. Consider Trump’s plan to remove 5,000-plus troops from Germany and more from elsewhere in Europe. It came as a knee-jerk response to the German Chancellor’s being critical of his policy toward Iran. Normally such a decision would be based on strategic implications having been tested by knowledgeable people in the Washington bureaucracy. Similarly, no knowledgeable people seem to be anywhere near his decision-making on Iran.

A recent paper by political scientists David Broockman and Joshua Kalla sheds light on how voter perceptions are shaped by the policy positions attributed to candidates. In their survey experiment, the researchers asked voters about hypothetical candidates, assigning them various policy stances. The results revealed that specific positions significantly influenced how voters viewed a candidate and how likely they were to support that candidate. For example, changing a candidate’s stance on the use of race in college admissions or racial targeting in small business assistance led to substantial shifts in voter support.

Policy positions commonly held by left-leaning activists and party leaders, such as support for admitting more asylum seekers or requiring gender self-identification for sports teams, are not always embraced by the broader Democratic voter base. In Broockman and Kalla’s survey, fewer than 50 per cent of Democratic primary voters supported these positions. Candidates in purple states or districts simply avoid these issues: thus, Texas Democratic Senate candidate James Talarico addresses questions about transgender rights by highlighting economic inequality instead.

The survey experiment found that for Democrats, dropping support for race-based college admissions and racial targeting of small business assistance were the most impactful changes in shifting voter preferences. Adopting policies such as merit pay for K-12 teachers, limiting teaching of gay and lesbian content, accepting fewer asylum seekers and being tougher on minor crimes also made candidates up to 10 per cent more appealing in swing districts.

The authors note that in 2020, California Democrats tried to overturn the state’s ban on race-conscious college admissions through a ballot initiative, with support from every major Democratic leader. Yet the measure failed, garnering less than 43 per cent of the vote – demonstrating the challenge of persuading voters to adopt orthodox progressive views. In that election, Democrats benefited from maintaining progressive stances on defending Social Security, skilled immigration and the minimum wage, which were more popular among their base and the general electorate.

Many progressives contend that rather than moderating their positions to appeal to voters, political leaders should lead boldly and work to shift public opinion over time. In many circumstances I share this perspective, but Trump has changed the political landscape. And relying on blue voters alone will not be enough to win the Senate. Given the danger he represents to democracy itself, a Senate that will oppose and even act against him must be a primary objective.

All of this, of course, presumes that there will be an election. Trump has so far failed to change the rules and boundaries of a sufficient number of districts to affect the overall outcome. Which leaves the possibility of a coup attempt to block the election taking place. Trump has done it before, and he makes it very clear that he is thinking about it now. My own view is that, as in other such instances, the rule remains “Trump Always Chickens Out.” We shall see.

Medieval French Jews

In an article in the Winter/Spring 2026 issue of Inroads, I discussed The Emperor of Lies, Steve Sem-Sandberg’s remarkable book about the Łódź ghetto, in the context of my growing up in Canada after World War II as the child of Polish Jews from Łódź who were the only ones in their families to survive the Holocaust. Here I consider what would be entailed by expanding the story to that of the wider community in which my parents grew up.

Five years ago I published Participant Observer, a memoir covering the years of my political involvement beginning as a university student in Canada in the 1960s. At the time and until recently, I never seriously considered going further back to the story of the generations that preceded mine. I had other writing priorities and the geographical and historical research required was clearly beyond my capacity. But this has changed: with AI, it has now become possible to systematically scan available relevant information to enter the wider community of my forebears.

I never learned much from my parents about their families: it was clearly too painful for them to remember, and they did not wish to burden my brother Arthur and me. Yet their relationship to their new Canadian home was constrained by those experiences; however welcoming their new North American home, they identified first as Jews. Beyond business and family, the priority was supporting the Jewish community at home and, increasingly, in Israel.

But Arthur and I were not bound by these limitations. Second- and third-generation Canadian Jews such as Lea Roback even provided us with role models who made common cause with the wider progressive movements in Canada. And there were many more in the United States. As I recounted in my autobiography. I discovered the progressive Jews in “the movement” when I was based at the Institute for Policy Studies in Washington, D.C., in the late 1960s.

Thus, my relationship to the wider society was not comparable to that of my parents, something that made them both proud and uncomfortable. Returning to Quebec in the early 1970s after completing my graduate studies in Ontario, I was welcome to assume my Canadian (or – by the sixties – Québécois) identity. The same was true for Arthur.

Of course, having been brought up in a Jewish environment, we were especially attuned to Jewish history and culture – and Israeli developments, which we could not discuss with our father, who was becoming active in right-wing Zionism. After his too-early death in 1971, we watched even mainstream Jewish organizations defend the indefensible, resorting to calling Israel’s critics antisemites. Ironically, as we found ourselves having to disassociate ourselves from the actions and assertions of Israel and its supporters, we were in effect reasserting our Jewishness.

The Holocaust and Zionism

This is the current context in which I have been thinking and reading about the Jewish past, to approach a question beyond that explored in my autobiographical writings: How has the Holocaust affected our understanding of the historical relationship between the Jews and those around them?

In my autobiography I briefly draw attention to impressive German colleagues whom I came to know as a young academic, colleagues who faced up to what their parents’ generation had done. I have frequently been impressed by how, in apparent contrast to most Austrians and certain eastern Europeans, Germans like Hartmund Lutz, professor at the University of Greifswald in the former East Germany, made no effort to whitewash their country’s past; quite the contrary.

Over the years, I participated in activities organized by German diplomats, drawing lessons from the Nazi past. In 1997, I took an intensive summer German language course in Staufen, in Germany’s southwest. There I came to know Gerhard Kahl. Gerhard, retired from international development work, recounted how during the war his family had sheltered and helped German Jews escape to nearby Switzerland.

It was then that I began to think systematically about the effect of the Holocaust on our understanding of the history of Jews’ relations with their European neighbours. In the mainstream Jewish community, the result was to effectively end the contestation of Zionism. Zionism in interwar Europe, to which my father was enlisted as a teenager, was contested not only by religious separatists awaiting the messiah but also by many secular Jews who foresaw a future for their people in which they would constitute an ethnoreligious group no more but no less legitimate than the national majority.

For more than a generation, coinciding with the adult lives of my parents, the Holocaust put an end to such an aspiration. Apart from ultra-Orthodox Jews still waiting for the messiah, Zionism was now effectively uncontested. As we were growing up in the postwar decades, our father attained a standard of living in Canada that allowed him to support Israel more, he assured us, than if we lived in Israel with its socialist restrictions. He was disappointed, but sophisticated enough not to be surprised, that for many Jews of my brother’s and my generation who grew up after World War II, “Israel right or wrong” would no longer suffice.

Had there been no Hitler …

I end here on a question, a thought experiment: Just as the Nazi experience altered our understanding of the relationship of the Jews to the gentile world in the decades after the war, could it also have altered our understanding of what came before? Had there been no Hitler, no Holocaust, the world prior to the arrival of the Nazis would still be the same, but what of our understanding of it?

Had the Nazis failed to take over Germany, a real possibility at the time, would European Jews’ understanding of their own history differ from that taught in light of the Holocaust? Would they not have questioned the legitimation of their passivity – God’s will – vis-à-vis antisemitic violence: the Inquisition, pogroms …

Accepting that until the modern era in Europe there was little room for any groups that rejected Christianity, we are left with the question of the Jews’ relationship to the gentile world after the Reformation: were they still bound to be victims? The answer, I suggest, lies in the notion of the “chosen people,” the assumption that that there are divine expectations unique to the Jews that encompassed choices built on the assumption that God will take care of us when we are in danger – if not in this world, then in the next.

To the extent that leadership in the Jewish community lay in the hands of clergy who fostered the chosen people myth, concessions violating God’s rules to those making threats were ruled out. So were compromises with one side or the other in periods of conflict. Instead, the Jews in effect invited attacks from both, and gained a reputation as unreasonable if not fanatical.

After the Holocaust, Zionism replaced the chosen people as the unchallengeable unifying myth. As I write in March, Israel’s soldiers are on the offensive against its neighbours. Hardly a promising context in which to ask such problematic questions about the past.

A few years ago I wrote a political autobiography, Participant Observer. In the preface I claimed that the experience it set out was not only my story but provided insight into the story of a generation, my generation. This was because I found myself present at important times and places, Quebec in the late 1960s and 1970s and Scandinavia in the next decades – a rare combination, especially as I was close enough at times to be a participant, yet even then distant enough to be an observer.

I was spurred to write my political memoirs by a planned move out of our house where I had kept filing cabinets full of correspondence and printed material going back 40 years. Little further research was needed as the basic content of the book lay in those files.

For a long time, however, I never seriously considered going further back to tell the story of the generations that preceded mine, a story that for my grandparents and all my uncles and aunts ended in a Nazi death camp. I didn’t pursue this story in part because it was too painful for my parents – the only survivors – to share their experience with my brother Arthur and me.

My father died of cancer at the age of 71. Near the end of his life I persuaded him to tell his story, beginning in late September 1939 when he and his fiancée, my mother, fled their home near Łódź, a city in western Poland that was a centre of clothing and textile production. More than one third of the Łódź region’s 800,000-plus population was Jewish.

In the summer of 1939, Stalin and Hitler had secretly agreed to divide Poland once the European war began. In early September the Germans took over the western half, and two weeks later the USSR occupied the eastern half. Łódź was under German occupation, and most of the Łódź Jews died in the camps. The division of Poland held until June 1941 when Hitler decided to conquer the USSR. My parents escaped by moving eastward, initially into Soviet-occupied Poland and then deep into the USSR when the Germans invaded.

My father wanted to tell of his contribution to Zionism after the creation of the state of Israel. I hired a writer to work with him on an “as told to” version, but it was too late. After his death our mother would sometimes talk about her family – of her older sister who was like a mother to her, and her brother whom everyone expected to become a brilliant scientist. I hoped to take up their story in some way, but I realized that it meant starting almost from scratch. In any case, I was too busy with my own research and publications.

The situation changed recently when I began to take my distance from political science research. My academic discipline seemed to me unable to adequately adapt to the reality that has emerged in the Trump era of how a regime can alter the “facts” to suit its interests. The pandemic was an additional impetus for a new kind of project. And I was motivated to find out more about my family history by a book that my wife Frances and her sister Betty wrote several years ago in which they traced their family history for the next generation. They were able to take advantage of rich sources of that history, family stories about previous generations handed down by their parents combined with genealogical information, letters, documents and cemetery explorations.

To do something comparable about my family presented, since there is nothing in the way of a comparable family history on which I could base my research. But from what I could see, recent technological developments potentially opened a way toward carrying out such an investigation. Every day, AI is making existing information available electronically in a scannable format. In my initial foray into that world, I have found no specific information about my uncles and aunts, but much about the circumstances surrounding their lives growing up as Jews in the Łódź region in the 1930s.

The ghetto

Unexpectedly, there was a second development which added a dimension to the story. When I recently described my project to Swedish friends, they drew my attention to Steve Sem-Sandberg’s book The Emperor of Lies, first published in Sweden in 2009 and a prize-winning bestseller in that country (an English translation¹ appeared in 2011). Sem-Sandberg based much of his book on the “ghetto encyclopedia” of Łódź, which has recently – finally – been printed, catalogued and made available. The Emperor of Lies is a novel but there is nothing fictional about the story it tells.

It is a beautifully written book about terrible suffering and extraordinary evil. The book is a long and hard read and a deeply personal experience for me – I admit I could only skim certain parts. It tells the story of the Łódź ghetto from 1939, when the Germans arrived, to 1944, when the last of the Jews were transported to Auschwitz. What I had come upon was thus the story of the final years of both my father’s and my mother’s families (though I could find no direct reference to them in the book’s 600 pages).

My mother’s family lived in Brzeziny; my father’s in a village nearby. Sem-Sandberg describes “the Jews from the neighbouring towns of Brzeziny and Pabianice … arriving in the (Łódź) ghetto”:

Brzeziny, too, had had a ghetto. But it had been an open ghetto, from which people could come and go … Almost all the Jews in Brzeziny had worked for one German company, Günther & Schwartz.

But then, without warning, the evacuation order was issued. The SS commando unit blocked off district after district. They had been promised an allowance of eleven kilos of luggage each. But once they had formed themselves into lines with their scanty baggage, black-coated SS men stepped forward and started sorting people. Young, healthy men and women were put into one group, designated A. Others, children, the old and the sick, were allocated to a group B.

Group B had to stand to one side, and group A was ordered to set off to the station at a run. Before they even got there, they could hear the Germans shooting everyone they had left behind.

The systematic elimination of those unable to work began not long afterwards. One week in 1942, trucks came and took away the elderly, those with artificial limbs and all children under 14, emptying the orphanage and three hospitals. The workers faced constant pain, existing almost entirely on a watery liquid, but were kept alive to feed German production demands.

What makes the Łódź story so unbearably distressing is that the orders were carried out by the Jews themselves.

The “emperor of lies” of the title was Mordecai Chaim Rumkowski, a Jew who ran the ghetto like a medieval lord. The Nazis created a system in which the ghetto was administered by the Jews under Rumkowski’s control. Rumkowski and his 17 fellow elders ran it efficiently for them, and it soon became a major source of supply for the German war machine. My mother’s family had been involved in Łódź’s textile industry, and they were no doubt kept alive working to supply the German military until they were no longer productive.

Rumkowski, whose rule was law, was an obsessive egomaniac – apparently also a pedophile and abuser of women. He ran a Jewish state within a state, protected by “four hundred police officers and three jails.” There were banks, shops, schools, hospitals, music and theatre, an orphanage, a meticulously maintained archive and a chronicle so that Rumkowski’s “achievements” would be remembered. Rumkowski’s factories and workshops produced everything the German army might require, from boots and uniforms to building supplies. The workers were paid in food. Those at the top of the pyramid fared well; the rest faced slow starvation.

Among the characters the author brings to life are the “chosen few,” notably Dawid Gertler, the Jewish police commander who lived like a gangster, and Rumkowski’s sister “Princess” Helena, with her chandelier and flocks of caged birds, who “arranges food and wine for the elite, while her brother rides in a carriage, pulled by a white horse”:

In 1943 and the early part of 1944, the commandant, Hans Biebow, could look out over an empire that was the closest a ghetto could get to a fully functioning city of workers. Ninety per cent of the population worked in the factories and workshops Rumkowski had established on Biebow’s orders. Production was efficient, proceeds were high … a net profit of almost ten million Reichsmarks, a prodigious sum.

In 1944 systematic deportations to Auschwitz recommenced. By now news of the “final solution” was widespread; no one believed that the workers were being sent for “manual labour outside the ghetto.” The Łódź Jewish police went from house to house, violently forcing pleading men and women into the transports. In the end they too were sent; Rumkowski and his family were the last to go.

Ultimately, the reader is left with a question: Was Rumkowski, the worst among Jews in similar positions, not just serving himself but also trying to hold at arm’s length the monstrous Nazi machine, bent on exterminating every single last Jew on earth?

The generation gap

The story of the Łódź ghetto will constitute a chapter in the wider project I am working on, starting with an account of what we know about that community when my parents, uncles and aunts were young. Antisemitism was a fact of life as they were growing up in prewar Poland. There was no question thus as to their identity: like the vast majority of Jews in Poland, they were Polish Jews, not Jewish Poles, both in the choices they made and in their place in Polish society. (Ironically, a larger proportion next door thought of themselves as Jewish Germans, especially among scientists, intellectuals and revolutionaries.)

Antisemitism was largely absent in Canada by the time my parents settled there, something they appreciated, but their relationship to the gentile world around them reflected their earlier experiences. Their Jewish identity remained at the core of the choices they made: they were Canadian Jews, not Jewish Canadians. Beyond business and family, efforts went toward supporting the Jewish community at home and, increasingly, in Israel.

Jewishness has been a quite different matter for their sons. Arthur and I grew up with a very different view of the world from the one my parents brought with them from Poland. Like many second- and third-generation Jews in North America, we were spared any expectation to identify with our parents’ experiences. Moreover, we were nonbelievers, something we expressed in our life choices upon leaving home. And despite an interest in Israel, we were not Zionists, if Zionism is taken to mean what it meant for my parents and their friends: understanding the world and making choices from the perspective of what’s good for Israel.

Having been brought up in a Jewish environment, we were more attuned than others to Jewish history and culture. But in itself, that does not constitute the basis of an identity. There is a point where one’s life as a full participant in a welcoming wider community can create an identity that transcends one’s background. As I recount in my political autobiography, I found key elements of my emerging identity in my experience as a participant observer in Quebec and Scandinavia.

Life choices, family, community play their part but, like it or not, so do events in the wider world. Ironically, what is happening in Palestine makes it harder to take our distance. In making our voices heard in opposition to those acting in our name, we are reasserting our Jewish identity.

Continue reading “From generation to generation” →

Image: Demonstration in Montreal, October 18, 2025. photo: Frances Boylston

I write as a Canadian with a long relationship with the United States, going back to the late 1960s when I spent a year in Washington. I was fully accepted by my comrades in our 22nd Street NW New Left commune, several of whom remained friends for many years. Nevertheless, I was an outsider simply by virtue of the fact that, as a Canadian, I could not be drafted and sent to Vietnam like Jody Palmour’s brother Evans, who stayed with us over several months, or, like Bob Labaree, put to work cleaning hospitals as alternative service.

Our commune was only a two-minute walk along Connecticut Avenue to Dupont Circle and the Institute for Policy Studies. The IPS had been founded in 1963 by Marcus Raskin and Dick Barnet, progressive intellectuals from the Kennedy administration. Both had come to Washington with hopes of “changing the system,” but after coming up against the reality of high-powered State Department meetings, they concluded that what was missing was a counterinstitution, a place where the “best and the brightest” could “speak truth to power,” drawing inspiration from the actions of our generation on campuses and in the streets.

The year I arrived, Raskin and his IPS colleague Arthur Waskow’s “Call to Resist Illegitimate Authority,” endorsed by dozens of well-known scholars and religious leaders, helped launch the draft resistance movement. A few years later, one of the IPS fellows, Gar Alperovitz, played a key role in the leaking of the Pentagon Papers.

Back in Canada by that time, I was saddened in the following years to observe the liberal sixties and seventies give way to Ronald Reagan and the Tea Party. These developments paralleled my research findings that levels of political knowledge in the United States were consistently below those of comparable countries. Yet nothing prepared me – or foreign observers generally – for Trump.

Trump takes on the world

So now I follow what is going on in the United States even more closely, but I consciously do so from a distance. Like most Canadians, I have no illusions about what is going on in Washington now. Before assessing the prospects for the coming U.S. midterms given the resounding success of Democratic candidates in November’s off-year elections, I place recent developments in a wider context.

Starting early this century, the proportion of democracies compared to autocracies and hybrid regimes declined almost every year. With the many elections that took place in established democracies in 2024, this was especially the case that year. Apparently for the first time, the incumbent party lost vote share in every election – and more often than not, it was far-right parties that benefited.

Election results in 2025 have been more mixed, beginning in Canada, where – as a result of Trump’s threats – the populist right was, unexpectedly, unsuccessful. More ambiguously, something similar has happened in the Netherlands . Overall, the current picture is uncertain: a counterexample is the Czech Republic, which elected populist Andrej Babis president in October.

In Europe, overall, it appears that Trump’s pro-Putin stance, along with threats by his Vice President and his former buddy Elon Musk and Putin’s own declarations, have led to greater cohesion in the EU’s response to Trump, though nothing to compare to Canada’s overwhelming reaction in the form of a reduced market for U.S. products and for travel south of the border. Under the headline “Canadians Made Three Million Fewer Trips to the U.S. During Summer Travel Boycott,” Jason Kirby wrote in the Globe and Mail on September 10,

Canadian travellers held strong to their boycott of travel to the United States right to the end of the summer, blowing a sizable hole in the U.S. tourism sector, the latest numbers from Statistics Canada show.

In August, the number of Canadian residents returning by vehicle from the U.S. plunged 33.9 per cent year-over-year to 1.9 million, while the number of residents returning by air fell 25.4 per cent to 423,000, the agency said.

Taken together across the peak summer travel period of June to August, Canadians made three million fewer trips to the U.S., a 33.1-per-cent year-over-year decline.

In light of what we have seen, it is fair to predict less than happy outcomes for erratic U.S. foreign policy, notably Trump’s gunboats in the south and his irrational tariffs on allies, which have driven them to seek alternate trading partners, starting with China. Canada is a case in point, with Prime Minister Mark Carney having accepted an invitation to visit China extended by President Xi.

November’s off-year election results suggest that Trump is in even more trouble with U.S. voters than previously thought. Much of the discontent is economic: rising prices, fewer new jobs. But it also is affected by Trump’s authoritarian/monarchical proclivities, symbolized by his turning the people’s house on Pennsylvania Avenue into a palace fit for a despot. L’etat, c’est moi. Trump is upset with Canada for not pulling down an Ontario ad about Reagan and free trade sooner? Slap on an extra 10 per cent tariff.

His niece Mary has called him “the only person I’ve ever met who’s never evolved.” It is time to acknowledge that Americans chose to give power to a manchild. A male manchild who, if in a position to do so, becomes a bully. The choice was perhaps understandable the first time (who knew?), but unforgivable the second. A child knows none of the nuances of the grown-up world. There is no sense of humour, no perception that others have feelings, no sense of things evolving over time. Everything is about him. I will dress up like a king and everyone will give me presents. Give it to me because I want it. If you don’t I will hit you.

What the numbers say

G. Elliott Morris (author of the highly recommended Strength In Numbers newsletter), among others, finds that though Trump claims the support of 65 per cent, his real support is not much more than half that number. Trump has the unique problem that he started off a lot lower than other presidents. So as he loses ground – and he has lost ground at about the normal historical clip – he just continues to be worse and worse than every other president before him. Morris reported on September 30,

What I’ve done is combine all 7,000 interviews Verasight has conducted for Strength In Numbers over the last 5 months into one big poll.

33% of U.S. adults who did not vote in the 2024 election currently say they approve of the job Trump is doing as president, versus 59% who say they disapprove.

And on socio-economic status, poorer voters have swung much harder than richer voters against the president …

“Young, Hispanic” is the intersection of two groups that were very sensitive to price increases during Joe Biden’s term, but were not necessarily super conservative or on board with Trump’s policy agenda. Here, I mean especially tariffs and mass deportations, which are also both inflationary and highly visible to young people and Hispanics …

Trump’s net approval among young people (18–29) in our survey data is -38 today, which is about ~35 points lower than his estimated vote margin among the group in 2024 … There are a lot of Trump voters out there who regret their choice in 2024. In our polling data, just 82% of Trump’s 2024 voters approve of the job he’s doing as president today (plus 33% of non-voters and 3% of Harris voters). For comparison, 95% of Harris voters (plus 59% of non-voters and 15% of Trump voters) disapprove of his presidency.

And here are some numbers from “Perceptions of Trump and Democratic commitments to personal freedoms, free elections and a fair criminal justice system,” a Washington Post–ABC News–Ipsos poll of U.S. adults conducted between October 24 and 28 (the poll has an error margin of +/- 2.8 percentage points). Respondents were asked whether Trump is or is not committed to each of a list of issues, and whether the Democrats are or are not committed to the same issues. Only on “Protecting freedom to own firearms” did Trump come out ahead. The Democrats came out well ahead on the rest, sharing the position of voters on key issues much more than Trump does:

  • Free and fair elections: 8.5 per cent lead for Democrats
  • A fair criminal justice system: 6 per cent lead for Democrats
  • Protecting freedom of speech: 11.5 per cent lead for Democrats
  • Protecting freedom of the press: 17 per cent lead for Democrats
  • Protecting freedom of religion: 3.5 per cent lead for Democrats.

And now the midterms?

Some are asking whether Trump will even allow the midterms to take place, if he expects to lose the House and perhaps the Senate as well. And under what conditions? Pundits are asking what Trump will do faced with the prospect of having to deal with a Congress run by his opponents: will Trump allow the election to go ahead, or act to try to create justification for cancelling it? As I write, he is building up resources for a military intervention in Venezuela, as if he cared in the slightest about the people of Venezuela – or anywhere else. Can it be that he is warmongering to justify putting off the midterms if he is sure to lose?

As I have argued in Inroads and elsewhere, America’s decentralized pure two-party system is dysfunctional in many ways. In this case, however, the fact that even national elections are run by the states may prove to be its saving grace.

Stay tuned.

As I write, Congress is debating Trump’s budget, including his “beautiful” tax cut for the wealthy that will increase the U.S. debt by $3 to $5 trillion over ten years. If something like the version passed by the House of Representatives is accepted by the Senate, it will constitute the most significant redistribution of income and wealth in American history, to the rich and super-rich.

Politically, it can only hurt the Republicans. As Rahm Emanuel wrote in the Washington Post, they are handing the Democrats a political gift for the next campaign. The pending legislation, he suggested, “should be understood by the public in one phrase: ‘tax cuts for the wealthy, health-care cuts for the many.’”

What can we expect in the United States in the coming months, indeed weeks? This is an emotional matter for me. At least in one case, it has even affected my friendships. I have no problem respecting conservative views on domestic and international issues, but I draw the line at support for Trump. Some of the policies he advocates are not necessarily bad. But statistically, that is inevitable; it’s true of Mussolini, Franco and others as well. Trump would be a dictator like them if he could.

An institutional outlier

The United States, we need to remind ourselves, is an outlier among democracies, notably with its pure two-party system in which the only way to express dissatisfaction with the party in power is to vote for the opposing one, even if you have to hold your nose. There is, I suggest, good reason to believe that a large number of Trump voters from 2024 are releasing their noses. In any other modern democracy, such developments would find their way into political changes. Given its exceptional institutions, that is not necessarily the case in the United States:

  • Although the United States is politically divided almost evenly, Trump’s Republicans control both houses of Congress, and their appointees comprise a majority on the Supreme Court. In effect, at this moment, the United States is a one-party state.
  • Trump, even if increasingly unpopular, can call on the MAGA network to threaten congressional Republicans with being “primaried” – denied renomination – and force them to mouth the lie that the 2020 election was “stolen.” Apparently, the threats extend to being attacked physically,
  • For his part, Trump is a lame duck, and so has no personal stake in GOP unpopularity.
  • When it comes to domestic policy, in contrast to the Trump I administration, the Trump II cabinet and administration consists of yes men and women, almost all of whom are grossly unqualified for their jobs.
  • Those working directly or indirectly for government are silenced by threats of withholding funds and fears of impending further layoffs.
  • Trump brings nonstop media attention to his schemes, many of which are empty (e.g. annexing Canada), while the real threats in what he is planning get too little attention.

A reverse social model

Were I ten years younger, I would update my comparative research linking civic literacy and democratic political participation and apply it to what has been happening in U.S. politics and society in the era of Trump.

During the late 1960s and early 1970s, I was a close observer of what was happening in our neighbour to the south, especially in 1968–69, when I lived in a highly political commune, “in the belly of the beast” – Washington, DC. My intense immersion there in the American antiwar and civil rights movements left me with a profound ambivalence toward our neighbour.

In the ensuing decades, my focus shifted, but recently, with the emergence of the New Right and then Trumpism, I have come to renew my relationship (obsession?) with the United States. Only this time, ambivalence has given way to a perception of the United States as, in effect, a reverse social model, providing a lesson in what modern democratic countries, starting with Canada, need to be wary of.

Trumpites imagine that people elsewhere all want to be Americans. In fact, the high American GDP belies a relatively poor quality of life, according to a committee of 13 experts who advised the past five presidents. assembled by Tulane University economist Douglas Harris. The committee used 37 measures of success grouped into 15 topics: education, mental health, social capital, environment and others, as well as economy. And there is widespread awareness in comparable countries that U.S. economic success is only part of the story.

In the 2024 campaign, the GOP took advantage of the unique American political institutional structure – only two parties, with small rural states overrepresented – and repeatedly drew attention to various expressions of discontent, notably via Elon Musk’s X and Fox News. The underlying message was that you may not like Trump, but the only way to express dissatisfaction with the status quo is to vote for him and his party, a message meant to appeal to a particular type of voter. And it did.

Many qualities distinguish Trump voters: gender, region, generation, income, race, education, class, and urban/rural. Cross-cutting all of them is civic illiteracy: the absence of social- and physical-science-based understanding of how the world works. The data as to who elected Trump are unambiguous. More than 70 percent of “low information” Caucasian males without a college degree voted for him and his candidates, a sufficient number of them residing in the key “purple” states to secure a majority of electoral college votes.

Trump unbound

The constraints Trump faced when taking office early this year are much reduced from when he took over as President in 2017. External constraints matter because Trump has no internal ones. Those in positions of power in democracies take into consideration institutional and legal, not to mention principled, constraints in making policy choices. None of this applies to Trump. It is only when encountering insurmountable external constraints after the fact that he changes his policies. And then he rewrites the facts.

So, without even elementary planning, he talks of taking over Greenland, the Panama Canal, or Canada. He makes the announcements on Fox News, assured that no one will raise any questions. The serious media, national and international, have no choice but to report on Trump as if he is a serious person.

But he is ultimately no different as President than he was as a media personality. Then, his power was limited to “you’re fired.” Now, he can attack the message and the messenger of any and every version of events that makes him look bad, making the cost of unflattering coverage so steep that journalists do not risk his displeasure. That is the point of his $20 billion lawsuit against CBS News over a segment of 60 Minutes, which he claims “put a halo” on Kamala Harris.

There is thus no constraint on what he will say and threaten to do, including what he said yesterday, or whether there is any chance of what he says coming to pass. The media covering the presidency are at a loss for how seriously to take his exaggerations, distortions and threats. They can get little of value from his cabinet secretaries, selected on the sole criterion of loyalty.

How to report on a personal dinner with foreigners who poured large amounts of money into his crypto business, or his accepting Qatar’s gift of a $400 million “flying palace”? Or the fact that, according to Robert Reich, Trump or his team have charged, investigated or threatened with investigation New York Attorney General Letitia James, Andrew Cuomo, Kamala Harris, Bruce Springsteen, Beyoncé, Bono, Oprah Winfrey, James Comey, unnamed “treasonous” Biden aides, the city of Chicago and the Kennedy Center? As Reich puts it, “Trump seems to have entered into a new and wilder stage of authoritarian neofascism. No holds barred. Nothing out of bounds. Rapacious, racist, nativist, vindictive, corrupt.”

And there is Harvard.

When it comes to international relations, European leaders, like Canadian and Mexican ones, have learned to play the game with Trump and avoid direct criticism while building popular support for standing up to his bullying. As I write, Prime Minister Mark Carney is publicly calling for Canada to join the European Union’s major rearmament plan by July 1, aiming to rely less on U.S. weapons and defence supplies.

Will Republicans in Congress continue to keep silent as the real costs of Trump’s economic threats to their allies and the uncertainty surrounding them emerge, costs that they will pay in votes lost in purple regions?

Andrew Coyne may be right: despite all this, “we should not count upon the majority of Americans coming to their senses.” But perhaps we need to worry about what Trump will do if they do come to their senses. As this excerpt from radio commentator Thom Hartmann puts it:

The first lesson they teach in dictator school is that “there must be an enemy within.” Trump embraced this from the first day of his campaign for president when he attacked “Mexican rapists and murderers” he said were “invading” America. In the years since, his enemies’ list has grown…

 Trump appears to be preparing for the type of authoritarian crackdown Germany saw after the Reichstag fire that propelled Hitler to power in 1933. Strongmen leaders are generally dangerous, but they’re particularly perilous when their grip on popularity and thus power begins to slip. Trump’s there now, which should put us all on high alert. And, to compound the alarm, he’s firing the people responsible for early warnings and investigations. History has shown us that when autocratic leaders are cornered, they often resort to drastic measures to retain control.

My own view is that Trump is too much of a coward to be compared to strongmen leaders, but I have been wrong before.

Olivier Norek, Les guerriers d’hiver. Paris: Michel Lafon, 2024. 448 pages.

Following the Russian invasion of Ukraine, and drawing on his country’s own historical experience, Finnish President Alexander Stubb, supported by leaders of neighbouring Nordic and Baltic countries, insisted that any resolution must uphold Ukraine’s independence, sovereignty and territorial integrity. Ukraine’s full recognition as a sovereign European state, backed by security guarantees and NATO integration, must be the end goal of any diplomatic efforts.

As Finnish leaders have reminded the democratic world, the lesson to be learned goes back to 1939. Despite maintaining its sovereignty after World War II, Finland was forced to cede territory and accept foreign policy restrictions as a result of what began with an attack by Stalin’s USSR in what became known as the Winter War. The lesson for Ukraine was clear: there should be no such compromises regarding its future alliances. It emerges clearly from a new book by Olivier Norek, a former captain of the French judicial police, better known for his detective novels.

Norek  dramatically captures the events that followed November 30, 1939, when the world’s largest army was sent marching into its tiny neighbour, sending columns of tanks in a battle against amateur soldiers armed with old rifles. For Finland, it was a question of waging war or surrendering to the Soviets, and giving up its hard-fought independence. Joseph Stalin had promised his troops an easy victory against an enemy that could be crushed in two weeks, but they ran into a wall. Nature was as much their adversary as the valiant Finns, in this war fought in the depths of winter:

Soldiers who had been promised a quick and easy conflict … lost their lives in a land they had no use for, in a country that the Kremlin had raised to the rank of enemy by dint of propaganda … It was not an entire nation that had declared war, but one man had decided to do so. (My translation).

The forests, the cold, the darkness and the fierceness and dedication of the Finnish soldiers (the majority of them peasants and foresters), brought together in cohesive units mainly made up of men from the same village, held back a huge, ill-prepared Red Army. In a few months, 26,000 lay dead on the Finnish side, 126,000 among the Soviets.

In recounting this bloody “Guerre d’hiver,” Olivier Norek, in beautiful French, captures the dehumanizing effect of war – the enemy is just a target – and, at the same time, the powerful human solidarity in defending one’s land. If there is a main character, other than the Finnish winter, it is Simo Häyhä (1905–2002), a rifleman who became a true legend. Perhaps the best sniper of all time, he was nicknamed “the White Death” by the Russians. During the three and a half months of the Winter War, Häyhä alone is said to have killed between 500 and 700 Soviet troops.

Stalin assured the world that it would be just a matter of days before his army would be in Helsinki and the revered Finnish general, C.G.E. Mannerheim, in chains. We learn how Stalin’s generals were afraid to tell him the truth, which would mean facing liquidation. The truth was that Soviet troops were totally ill-equipped in uniforms, weapons, strategy and leadership to take on highly motivated snipers under very harsh winter conditions.

The war ended when the Treaty of Moscow was signed on March 12, 1940. The high cost of the Soviet victory caught the attention of Adolf Hitler, who, not long afterward, broke his deal with Stalin and invaded the Soviet Union.

It’s impossible not to think about the conflict in Ukraine today in reading Norek’s powerful recounting of the bloody Winter War. Putin, like Stalin, totally misjudged his adversaries’ readiness to defend their country against invading soldiers who had no idea why they were fighting and dying there in the first place.

Finland had been left mainly to its own devices by its allies to face the Soviets. This, fortunately, was not the case when Russia invaded Ukraine. Or at least it was not the case before Trump.

Irvin D. Yalom, The Spinoza Problem. New York: Basic, 2011. 321 pages.

In rummaging through a bookcase, I came upon this book. I put it aside with the intention of reading it, but never got around to it until recently. I don’t remember its getting much attention when it was published in 2011. It deserves more. Dr. Yalom has written a historical account – indeed two connected accounts – of memorable events and personalities.

Baruch (Bento) Spinoza was born into the Dutch Sephardic Jewish community. Orthodox in religious practice, it was very practical – and successful – when it came to commerce. Its primary origin lay in the Spanish Inquisition, established in 1478 by King Ferdinand II of Aragon and Queen Isabella of Castile at the instigation of Tomás de Torquemada, a Castilian Dominican friar. An estimated 150,000 people in Portugal and Spain were prosecuted for various offences during the Inquisition’s three-century existence, of whom up to 5,000 were executed. Royal decrees issued in 1492 and 1502 ordered Jews and Muslims to convert to Catholicism or die, resulting in hundreds of thousands of forced conversions and the mass exodus of Jews and Muslims.

A large number of Iberian Jews ended up in Holland (Britain was closed to them until Oliver Cromwell reversed the policy in 1655, while their status elsewhere on the continent was uncertain at best). It is no coincidence that Amsterdam was the richest and most culturally advanced community in the Western world during the 17th and into the 18th century.1 It is also no coincidence that Spain was soon to become a European backwater, overtaken by France, Britain and many others, especially after its South American colonies broke free.

The notorious freethinker

The author, Irvin Yalom, is a psychotherapist who also writes historical novels. Here he sets out two contrasting, yet somehow linked, case histories, fascinated by the anomalous connection between a leading Nazi antisemite and a renowned Jewish philosopher. Yalom discovered that Spinoza’s entire private library was stolen by the Nazis in 1942, apparently under orders of Alfred Rosenberg, the chief ideologue of National Socialism. While the main story is about Baruch Spinoza, it is interspersed with chapters recounting the life of Alfred Rosenberg.

Yalom writes well, so that even when slow-moving this book makes compelling reading. The Spinoza Problem provides an accessible introduction to how the world was understood by the 17th-century rationalist whose ideas in many ways laid the foundations of the Enlightenment – even though few have read Spinoza’s writings as such. He was a philosopher’s philosopher, writing for other philosophers, and perhaps also avoiding explicitly setting out ideas that directly challenged the prevailing orthodoxy.

We first encounter him as the Dutch Jewish community’s most promising, but also most disconcerting, yeshiva student. Baruch asks questions like “How could Moses have written about his own death?” As he matures, it becomes clear to him that the Torah is not only mythological but imprisoning. He must escape if he is to uncover essential truths through logic alone.

When we meet him again he is a young man, a simple shopkeeper running his father’s failing business along with his brother, not far from Rembrandt’s home in Amsterdam. He spends much time in contemplation, posing and trying to resolve difficult philosophical questions. In good part, the chapters setting out his ideas and life choices take the form of his conversations, mainly with a young student named Franco who is allegedly in existential crisis. Spinoza, appreciating the opportunity to “express aloud the arguments he had been constructing,” spends many hours in conversation with Franco and his cousin Jacob. In this way, Yalom familiarizes the reader with Spinoza’s main ideas.

In these hours he brings out the contradictions in the religion-based understandings of his interlocutors. They become increasingly uncomfortable as he arrives at his conclusion that ultimately their religion is only a metaphor: “Why should your God care how we feel about him or obey his commands? No rational person could imagine that a divine omniscient author deliberately wrote with the object of contradicting himself freely.” The Torah is a human construction, designed to give authority to the human-made rules that are set out. The simple truth can only be that “God is Nature and Nature is God.”

In a recent article in the New Yorker, “Baruch Spinoza and the Art of Thinking in Dangerous Times,” Adam Kirsch tells us of a subversive book published in Amsterdam, Tractatus Theologico-Politicus, an anonymous Latin treatise that declared the best policy in religious matters is to allow “every man to think what he likes, and say what he thinks.” While giving thanks to living in a place where everyone’s judgement is free and unshackled, the author withheld his name. Soon, however, the authorities figured out that the Tractatus was the work of the notorious freethinker Baruch Spinoza. Ministers in several cities immediately forbade booksellers to carry the Tractatus, and in 1674 it was officially banned in the Netherlands.

As a young man, Spinoza impressed the leaders of Amsterdam’s Sephardic Jewish community with his brilliance, and they sought to recruit him to follow in the footsteps of family members who were among its elite. But he refused, unwilling to conform – or even pretend to conform – to a set of rules based on a religious doctrine in which he did not believe.

In his writing, Spinoza refers to “the eternal and infinite Being, which we call God or Nature.” Since there is no difference or distance between God and the rest of the universe, then God cannot do any of the things that we ordinarily think of God as doing: hearing prayers, working miracles, creating the world with a “Let there be light.” In the end the wider community, like his young interlocutors, disavows Spinoza, finding him guilty of “insolence and injury.”

Spinoza is excommunicated and condemned to live out his life in near-isolation, which he claims suits him fine, allowing him to pursue the life of the mind. He finds refuge in the small village of Rijnsburg, close to Leiden, and makes a living grinding lenses, a place he deems perfect for the life of the mind – but not, as it turns out, of the body, since lung illnesses run in the family. (One can only wonder what he could have produced had he lived to a ripe old age.) When he falls ill and dies in 1677 at the age of 44, the Jewish community will not bury him. Being no Christian either, he is buried outside the parish church cemetery.

Knowing that even in the tolerant Netherlands bigotry and fanaticism were never far away, he took care not to provoke the crowd and to be cautious in his intercourse with those who were not philosophers. Like his contemporary Thomas Hobbes, whose work was banned alongside his, he managed to die in his bed. To survive, Hobbes fled England, while Spinoza, when the Tractatus provoked a hostile reaction, decided not to publish anything else. All of his work, including the Ethics, was left in manuscript form for his friends to print after his death. Kirsch notes that “while a champion of political and intellectual freedom, Spinoza had no interest in being a martyr. Instead, he shows us how prudence and boldness can go hand in hand.”

The Nazi ideologue, the poet and the philosopher

Yalom’s interest in Alfred Rosenberg was stimulated by his discovery that Rosenberg, in charge of looting for the Third Reich, had ordered the removal of the contents of the small Spinoza museum in Amsterdam, and the officer in charge of the looting wrote in his report that it contained “valuable early works for the exploration of the Spinoza problem.” Because of the “Spinoza problem” they protected the books rather than burn them, as they burned so much of Europe.

Yalom came across the books at the Spinoza Museum in Rijnsburg, and wondered how they ended up there. The answer he got from the museum guide was that no one knows. Apparently, the museum had managed to collect replacements for most of the books that the Nazi authorities had confiscated and carted off to Germany. The originals turned up five years later in a German salt mine and were returned to Rijnsburg after the war.

Yalom ends the preface as follows: “I wondered if this Nazi, Alfred Rosenberg, had also … for his own reasons been looking for Spinoza … Shortly thereafter, I began writing.” Though Yalom admits that he found no evidence actually linking Rosenberg with Spinoza, he claims that it could have happened, and it all had to do with great German poet Johan Wolfgang von Goethe.

Though better educated than his Nazi cronies, for whom – apart from Hitler – he has little respect, Rosenberg believes that Jews are parasites upon the Aryan race and embraces Nazi race theories, of which he becomes the preeminent propagandist. We follow his career as he moves to Berlin and Munich and moves up the Nazi hierarchy. When the Nazi realm is destroyed, Rosenberg is convicted at Nurenberg and hanged.

We first meet Alfred as a pompous German student in Estonia, much taken by Houston Stewart Chamberlain’s ideas about the superiority of the Aryan race. At school he is a loner. One day he delivers a fiery antisemitic speech and is called to the office of his Jewish headmaster. But he stands firm on his racial theories. His history teacher concludes, “Excavate anywhere in his mind … and we run into the bedrock of unfounded convictions.”

He soon attracts the attention of the local Nazi party hierarchy and rapidly moves up to its top rungs to become the chief ideologue of the Nazi regime, impressing Hitler with his talents as a communicator, though – to his great regret – never winning the Führer’s personal friendship. As Yalom portrays him, Rosenberg is a genuinely unpleasant person, a success in his political career but an unhappy failure in his personal life. On the basis of what he and others wrote, Yalom constructs Rosenberg’s psychotherapy sessions with the fictional Dr. Pfister. In this way he lays out “how I personally might have approached the task of working with such a man as Rosenberg.”

To connect the two accounts and explain Rosenberg’s apparent interest in Spinoza, he suggests that along the way Rosenberg encountered an anomaly that uncomfortably challenged his conviction that Jews were parasites upon the Aryan race and culture. He found out, to his dismay, that his inspiration Goethe had himself been inspired by Spinoza and his writings.

The linking of the two stories is not a perfect fit, but on balance, it was probably a good decision, since each narrative is insufficient on its own to fill out a historical novel: not enough happens in Spinoza’s life, while Rosenberg is too negative a character around whom to build a book.

Continue reading “The Jewish Philosopher and his Nazi Connection” →

Image via Wikimedia Commons.

The Trump verdict in New York on May 30 does not seem to have had a significant effect on the polls – when it comes to changing anyone’s mind. On balance, it probably moved some undecideds and third-party supporters toward Biden, but their number is not large enough to significantly change the situation. With the trials on Trump’s more serious crimes unlikely to take place early enough to affect the presidential vote, we are now effectively in a horserace whose stakes could not be higher.

The Democrats will win the national popular vote for president, as they pretty much always do – but given the absurdity of the Electoral College system, it makes no difference. The only elections that matter are in the swing states – Arizona, Georgia, Michigan, Pennsylvania and Wisconsin – and the polls at this stage make them impossible to predict. Moreover, the 10 to 15 per cent of voters telling pollsters that they intend to support one of the third-party candidates create another level of uncertainty. From experience, we know that many will, in the end, make their vote count by choosing the major-party candidate they consider the lesser of evils.

Negative feelings about the economy and Biden’s handling of it mean that the Democrats will have to do a better job than they have been doing in disseminating knowledge of the actual situation. As the opinion page headline in the Washington Post on May 28 read, “Nearly everything Americans believe about the economy is wrong.” A Harris poll highlighted Americans’ misconceptions about their economy, including:

  • 55 per cent believe the economy is shrinking, and 56 per cent think the United States is experiencing a recession;
  • 49 per cent believe the stock market index is down (the S&P 500 index went up about 24 per cent in 2023 and is up more than 12 per cent this year);
  • 49 per cent believe that unemployment is at a 50-year high (the rate has been under 4 per cent, a near 50-year low);
  • 72 per cent believe inflation is increasing (the rate of inflation has fallen sharply to under 4 per cent from its post-COVID peak of 9.1 per cent).

This ignorance helps to explain high Trump support among less educated White male Americans, the voters of primary concern in the battleground industrial states. The numbers, in part, reflect the comparatively low civic literacy of Americans,1 and also the fact that this group in particular gets its information, such as it is, almost exclusively from right-wing media.

The scary prospect of a Trump presidency

Make no mistake about it: Trump getting elected is a frightening prospect. He told Time magazine that he would be willing to build migrant detention camps and deploy the U.S. military, both at the border and inland. He would let red states monitor women’s pregnancies and prosecute those who violate abortion bans. He would be willing to fire a U.S. attorney who doesn’t carry out his order to prosecute someone. He is weighing pardons for every one of his supporters accused of attacking the U.S. Capitol on January 6, 2021, more than 800 of whom have pleaded guilty or been convicted by a jury. He might not come to the aid of an attacked ally in Europe or Asia if he felt that the country involved wasn’t paying enough for its own defence. He would gut the U.S. civil service, deploy the National Guard to American cities as he sees fit, and staff his administration with acolytes who back his false assertion that the 2020 election was stolen.

The damage he continues to inflict on American political culture is perhaps even worse. He has made lying acceptable: 30,000 mistruths – 21 a day – during his presidency, not including unverifiable outlandish claims.

The morning after his conviction, I watched a standard Trump performance before followers. At 35 minutes it was much shorter than usual, but it had enough of the standard stuff to provide an insight into the man.

It is nothing like a speech. No beginning, middle or end. Rather, a bunch of lines to hold the audience’s attention, like those of an unfunny standup comedian, are interspersed with a combination of repeated exaggerations, lies and insults designed to evoke hatred for his adversaries. It feels stream-of-consciousness more than anything else, with the only thing that changes between performances being the order in which the same phrases come out.

It is full of superlatives, of “everybody knows”, “all the experts say” and so-called facts that cannot possibly be backed up. Consider his frequent description of his adversary as the worst president ever. Surely everyone in his audiences, if they thought about it for a moment, would know that Trump cannot possibly have the information to make such a claim.

The scary question is whether Trump himself knows this. Apart from all the other reasons he should not be allowed near any position of authority, let alone the presidency of the United States, this to my mind is the scariest. It may very well be that he actually believes things that are self-evidently false to be true just because they serve his interests. That certainly applies to election results. Good luck to us all if he is not – soundly – defeated in November.

The very fact that the Republicans will nominate and try to elect this liar – and possibly succeed – is a truly sad reflection on how low American politics has sunk. Apparently our own politicians and policies drive many thousands of Canadians southward to low-tax, winter-free places like Texas. We might have to prepare for the possibility of an equal number of Trump refugees coming northward across the border starting in November.

Monopoly politics

With the United States, and indeed the world, concentrating on the presidential election, I suggest we give some attention to the legislative elections that will take place at the same time. Unlike the presidency, when it comes to the legislative branch there is much we already know – because of the very nature of the system by which Americans elect their representatives and the rampant polarization that has emerged in recent decades.

Steven Hill, whose thoughtful reflections on the effect of digital technologies on political speech and election campaigns in the United States we publish elsewhere in this issue, recently contributed a very useful analysis of the failure of America’s geographically based winner-take-all system to the DemocracySOS blog. Here I draw liberally from Steven’s exposition.

The American system features single-seat district elections, including for all congressional seats, the great majority of state legislative seats and most city council seats in major cities. In the United States, unlike elsewhere, winner-take-all is a proxy for a two-party system, since smaller parties almost never reach the high percentage of votes typically needed to win that single seat. The vast majority of legislative seats, at both federal and state levels, are won by lopsided majorities. Whether it’s the Red (Republican) or Blue (Democratic) candidate who wins by a landslide depends on the state or region. In each election, experts reliably predict winners in about 90 per cent of the 435 U.S. House seats, and even the margin of victory.

State legislative races are even less competitive. In 2020, 27 per cent of the 7,383 state seats were uncontested, including 75 per cent in Massachusetts, 61 per cent in Wyoming, 58 per cent in Rhode Island, 57 per cent in Arkansas and 51 per cent in Georgia. With districts as safe strongholds for one party, it’s a waste of time and resources for the other party to bother with a campaign. Though not quite as apparent, the same applies to most states when it comes to electing senators and determining the electoral college vote for president. Americans have settled more and more into definable and balkanized partisan residential patterns: liberals and progressives populate urban areas, conservatives populate rural areas and small towns.

Under U.S. winner-take-all’s two-choice menu, the operative principle becomes: if we drive voters away from their candidate, the only choice left is our candidate. In those districts and states where there is actually a real contest, the stakes are incredibly high since they can mean the difference between power and – especially in the House of Representatives – impotence. Hence the large amounts of money lavished every two years on a small number of districts.

Winner-take-all politics now means that millions of voters effectively end up with no representation. In the 2020 election for the House of Representatives, representation in 19 states was exclusively from one party (11 Republican and 8 Democratic), and 11 more states were only one representative shy of monopoly representation. Tens of millions of “orphaned voters” live in the wrong districts and states, voting for losing candidates election after election. Rather than a two-party system, most voters effectively vote in a one-party system, their “choice” consisting of ratifying the candidate of the party that dominates their district or state. In such political monocultures real debate has virtually ceased.

This of course acts as a significant drag on voter turnout, as orphaned voters with so little real choice unsurprisingly stop voting. In legislative elections during nonpresidential years, the United States falls between Armenia and Bulgaria in its turnout level.

Given the few up-for-grabs districts, the campaigns target the small number of “undecided” voters (estimated at about 10 to 12 per cent of voters overall), the almighty swing voters, in these “purple” districts. Research shows that these tend to be the opposite of what one might expect. Rather than deliberating before choosing between the policies and records of the candidates, they tend to be the least informed and interested in politics. Yet policy overtures are primarily directed to them; campaign messages are fashioned for them. Hundreds of millions of dollars are spent on focus groups and opinion polls to determine their opinions – or, more often, their feelings and fears – which are then appealed to in slick TV and social media ads.

There is a second category of voters that can have undue negative influence on politics: extremists who turn out in support of a single cause, or of a candidate who expresses their disdain for a democracy they see as having failed them. This reality too is a byproduct of the winner-take-all system. In a close race a small number of motivated voters can determine which candidates “win all.” The duopoly, when combined with modern campaign technologies and digital media platforms, allow the targeting of ever-smaller slices of voters.

In the U.S. pure two-party system, winner-take-all elections thus hinge on small slices of the most uninformed and uninterested portion of the electorate, or of the most fanatical portion, or both. This dynamic is especially prominent in party primaries, which typically have extremely low turnout (often 25 to 30 per cent), allowing a relatively small core of passionate voters to have overwhelming influence in nominating party candidates. And with most legislative districts lopsided for one party or the other, the winner of the majority party’s primary is virtually guaranteed to win the general election. Reflecting these dynamics, one report from Unite America found that only 10 per cent of voters nationwide in U.S. House races cast ballots in primaries that effectively decided 83 per cent of those races.2

In this American election cycle, we will again see how extreme predictability and low turnout combined with a lack of competition in the great majority of races enables, and indeed leads, parties to precisely target resources, messaging and campaigns to the handful of battleground House districts and battleground states for president and Senate, ignoring the vast majority of races. The wider implications are that the system frustrates voters, candidates and legislators at every turn.

In the campaign, the media are concentrating on Biden’s and Trump’s age and on issues ranging from abortion to NATO, on the assumption that their viewers and listeners are the ones who, based on what they hear and see, will then make the choices that will affect the outcomes. But, in fact, especially when it comes to Fox and MSNBC, few of those viewers and listeners are undecideds. And far fewer are undecideds who live in purple districts or states, whose vote could make a difference.

I am not saying that this election, with so many already decided, is not important. Quite the contrary. If the Trumpites end up controlling the presidency and/or Congress, its effect on democracy not only in the United States but worldwide could be immense. Unfortunately, given their country’s political institutions and polarized pure two-party system, few Americans – despite what they are told – will have any say on these fundamental matters. And those who will have a say, and whom the campaigns will address, are hardly the best suited to make the choices.

Continue reading “A High-Stakes Election in a Deeply Flawed System” →

Christopher F. Rufo, America’s Cultural Revolution: How the Radical Left Conquered Everything. New York: Broadside Books, 2023. 352 pages.

By the end of the last century, the Soviet model of revolutionary communism had been totally discredited everywhere it had been tried, and it seemed that the world had moved beyond the promises of Marx, Lenin and Mao. Except that it hadn’t, according to Christopher Rufo. In his book America’s Cultural Revolution: How the Radical Left Conquered Everything, which hit stores this summer, he claims that, over time, the cultural version of left-wing revolution found a new home in the institutions of America. But it was only with the murder of George Floyd by a Minneapolis police officer in 2020 that it came to the surface among elites in education, the media and even big business.

I had never heard of Rufo when I encountered an article in a recent issue of the Economist that briefly summarized his ideas, noting his wide influence on the American right. I was intrigued enough to track down this book and soon understood why he has risen to prominence among American conservatives. He is very well read and writes clearly and interestingly about complex issues and ideas.

Rufo was raised by Italian immigrants in Sacramento and educated at Georgetown University. He began working as a documentary filmmaker, based in Seattle. He attracted attention when he attacked the city of Seattle in an article for City Journal, the magazine of the Manhattan Institute: “Under the banner of ‘antiracism,’ Seattle’s Office of Civil Rights is now explicitly endorsing principles of segregationism, group-based guilt, and race essentialism – ugly concepts that should have been left behind a century ago.”

The story generated leaks from civil servants who recorded and photographed their own antiracism training sessions and sent the evidence to Rufo. His reputation spread through the right-wing media, notably when Tucker Carlson became an ally and relied on him in his hour-long episode on “woke education.” His prominence has brought many thousands to his tip line, culled by an assistant. It took off in July 2020, when an employee of the city of Seattle sent him a video of a documented antibias training session.

Rufo ends his book with a call for a counteroffensive in the war of ideas to expose the nature of this ideology and how it operates within institutions. It would be easy to write off his claims, but it would be a mistake to do so. Rufo has done his homework, gathering and synthesizing in one place the existing evidence that supports those claims. His portrayal gives coherence to the “new right” interpretation of ongoing events that can be seen on Fox News and other media outlets, in think tanks on the right and among contenders for the GOP presidential nomination, Ron DeSantis in particular. In campaigning for the Republican nomination, Florida’s governor said he would “slit throats” in the federal bureaucracy by eliminating four federal agencies – the departments of Education, Commerce and Energy and the Internal Revenue Service – if elected president.

Rufo’s call for a cultural counteroffensive is being applied to Florida’s New College, the progressive public liberal arts school singled out by DeSantis for cultural transformation. New College ended gender studies and is setting up new majors in finance, communications and sports psychology. Appointed by DeSantis to its board of trustees, Rufo announced that it would be “the first public university in America to begin rolling back the encroachment of gender ideology and queer theory on its academic offerings,” a demonstration project to be replicated by red states nationwide.

The four prophets

The question of left-wing revolution was suddenly reopened. But to explain it, to understand the “dizzying cultural changes that have swept across the United States in the Black Lives Matter street revolution, the spread of racialist ideology in public education, and the rise of the ‘diversity, equity, and inclusion’ bureaucracy,” this book sets out to trace these ideas back to their origins in the student uprisings, urban riots and revolutionary violence of 1968 that provided “the template” for everything that followed. In this period, left-wing intellectuals developed a new theory of revolution in the West and their most dedicated disciples printed pamphlets, detonated homemade bombs and dreamed of overthrowing the state. As Rufo puts it, his goal is to “to reveal the inner history of America’s cultural revolution, tracing the arc of its development from its origin point to the present day.”

The book is divided into four parts: revolution, race, education and power. Each part begins with a biographical portrait of a prophet of the revolution: Herbert Marcuse, Angela Davis, Paulo Freire and Derrick Bell (I admit that Bell, like Rufo, was new to me). These figures established the disciplines of critical theory, critical praxis, critical pedagogy and critical race theory, which “multiplied into a hundred subdisciplines and devoured the university, the street, the school, and the bureaucracy.” These critical theories “were not designed to operate as mere abstractions. They were designed as political weapons and oriented toward the acquisition of power.”

The bulk of this book relies on long quotes from the four, beginning with Marcuse, the preeminent philosopher of the New Left, whose writings sought to mobilize the White intelligentsia and the Black ghetto as a new proletariat. Then comes Davis, Marcuse’s student, who gave immediacy to the pledge to violently overthrow the state and became the face of racial revolt in the West. Freire, a Brazilian Marxist, sought to turn schools into instruments of revolution and inspired educational reformers (I met an American guru spouting this line in all seriousness when he was an invited speaker at the Umea University Education Faculty in Sweden). Bell, a Harvard law professor, recruited a cadre of students whose mission was to spread critical race theory through elite institutions.

By using quotes, Rufo avoids positive distortions, but his selectivity allows him to provide one-sided portraits while claiming a greater consistency among the four than an objective analysis would reveal. Nevertheless, it’s worth paying attention to the concrete examples he has identified in his research on the extremes to which the application of Freire’s ideas to American schools has gone. A long chapter describes how the post–George Floyd developments in Seattle played out in “mob rule” in that city.

Having deeply penetrated local politics, the media and the bureaucracy, local radicals set up barricades and established an autonomous zone (CHAZ). They sought to abolish the police and the courts and to close jails, what Rufo describes as their Paris Commune moment. He provides a vivid description of what transpired in CHAZ, where identity (Indigenous, Black, trans women …) determined social rank and access to positions and favourable treatment while Whites were to practise decolonization rituals, and social order quickly degenerated into violence until finally police authority was reestablished.

Though CHAZ failed, its underlying ideas had found their way, as Rufo describes it, into the Seattle school district, with its 52,000 students and billion-dollar budget, of which at least $5 million goes to its race and identity programs whose several hundred employees are tasked with designing programs to counter the race-based, White supremacist society. Even math is not spared, since Western math has been used “to oppress and marginalize people and communities of colour.” Racial equity teams are sent to the schools to form educators tasked with implementing antiracist pedagogy, notably through meetings in which teachers confess and renounce their status as colonizers.

In a chapter entitled “Marxism Conquers the American Classroom,” Rufo sets out the process through which local American school authorities, most notably in California, adopted Freire’s revolutionary pedagogy.

As he describes it, California’s ethnic studies curriculum for 10,000 public schools starts from the assumption that students must be taught to “challenge racist, bigoted, discriminatory, imperialist/colonialist beliefs” and to participate in “social movements that build new possibilities for a post-racist society.” Teachers are encouraged to lead their students in Indigenous songs, chants and affirmations, including one appealing directly to Aztec gods, which, he points out, were worshipped with human sacrifice and cannibalism. In the vision statement prepared by the Board of Education, the goal is to provide a “tool for … social, economic and political change and transformation”:

During the teacher training session, the teachers were told that the settler colonialist regime exists as long as settlers are living on appropriated land and they should awaken students to the oppression and eventually destroy the dominant political regime. Ethnic studies is a requirement for graduation in California.

To achieve these goals, departments of ethnic studies were established first in the universities and then in the school districts. They also, Rufo adds, serve to provide jobs for college graduates in race and identity studies. He notes that while between 1970 and 2010 the number of students in U.S. public schools increased by 9 per cent, administrators’ numbers mushroomed by 130 per cent. Now only half their employees actually teach.

The long march through the institutions

According to Rufo, while during the 1970s the most violent elements of the New Left coalition – the Weather Underground, Black Panther Party and Black Liberation Army – fell apart, “the spirit of their revolution carried on in a subtler but equally dangerous form.” The most sophisticated activists and intellectuals of the New Left initiated a new strategy, the “long march through the institutions” – out of the streets and into the universities, schools, newsrooms and bureaucracies.

They developed intricate theories along the lines of culture, race and identity and “silently rooted them into the entire range of America’s knowledge-making institutions.” The process was so gradual and bureaucratic that it largely escaped the notice of the American public, until it burst into consciousness following the murder of George Floyd by a Minneapolis police officer in 2020. In response, there came a “stampede toward identity politics,” which was embraced by leaders in business, sports, the media and other segments of society. It surfaced notably in Florida, pitting Governor DeSantis against the beloved Disney Corporation:

These developments signaled that the New Left’s long march through the institutions has reached its endgame, installing a sanitized version of their ideas first formulated in the radical pamphlets of the Weather Underground and the Black Liberation Army into school curricula, popular media, government policy, and corporate human resources programs, into the official ideology of America’s elite institutions, from the Ivy Leagues to the boardrooms of Walmart, Disney, Verizon, American Express, and Bank of America …

The critical theories of 1968 have turned into a substitute morality: racism is elevated into the highest principle; society is divided into a crude moral binary of “racist” and “antiracist”; and a new bureaucratic logic is required to adjudicate guilt and redistribute wealth, power, and privilege. To enforce this new orthodoxy, left-wing activists have established departments of “diversity, equity, and inclusion” across an entire stratum of the public and private bureaucracies. Allies are rewarded with status, position, and employment. Dissenters are shamed, marginalized, and sent into moral exile. The ultimate goal is still revolutionary … to replace individual rights with group-identity-based rights, enact a scheme of race-based wealth redistribution, and suppress speech, based on a new racial and political calculus. They want a “total rupture” with the existing order.

Still, despite its successful blitz through the institutions, the revolution has its limits. It cannot escape the fundamental contradictions that have plagued it since its beginning. The revolution is not a path to liberation; it is an iron cage. Although it may seem that America’s cultural revolution has entered a period of dominance, the space between its ambitions and its outcomes has left open the possibility of reversal. The intellectual movement that began in 1968 was able to initiate the process of dismantling the old values, but it could not build a new set of values to replace them. The revolution’s proponents have not been able to reorder the deeper structures of society.

Rufo’s task as counterrevolutionary is not simply to halt the movement of his adversaries but to resurrect the system of values, symbols, myths and principles that constituted the essence of the old regime, to “make the eternal principles of freedom and equality meaningful again to the common citizen … This counter-revolution is already forming and staking out the territory for the fight ahead. The question now is which vision of America will prevail and which vision will return into the void.”

The enemy vision patiently built itself in the shadows and then, after the killing of George Floyd, exploded onto the American scene with its narrative inherited from the New Left of the late sixties and seventies: America was an irredeemably racist nation; Whites constituted a permanent oppressor class; the country could be saved only through the performance of elaborate guilt rituals and the wholesale overturning of its founding principles:

All of the formative institutions – universities, schools, corporations, government agencies – repeated the revolution’s vocabulary like a mantra:“systemic racism,” “white privilege,” “diversity, equity, and inclusion.” Meanwhile, in the streets, mobs of left-wing rioters expressed the ideology in physical form, toppling statues of Washington, Jefferson, and Lincoln and burning entire city blocks to the ground.

Buy the trees, reject the forest

As I read what he wrote, and as I write this, I have been asking: how seriously we are to take Rufo’s claims and the agenda he sets out? As readers of Inroads know, I follow American politics closely, almost obsessively. In recent years, I have tried vainly to make sense of what seem to be simply absurdities on the right. There is, however, no escaping the fact that up to 40 per cent of Americans see what is happening in their country as resulting from a conspiracy against them – the true patriots – that has penetrated and stolen the institutions of their country. Rufo’s internally consistent account, however exaggerated, gives coherence to their beliefs.

If we set aside the wider claims, we can readily appreciate the author’s diligence in tracking down and bringing to our attention details of cases that highlight the extremism that has mobilized on the left (sic) on what we might term “woke” issues. He also brings out what can only be described as the intellectual shoddiness of the positions he attacks. At the same time, we must keep in mind that Rufo, like all conspiracy theorists, however sophisticated and well-informed, has an agenda that makes him selective, excluding cases that do not fit into his narrative. In sum, with reservations we can buy the trees but reject the forest.

Although briefly attracted to Marcuse and critical theory, I soon realized that there was little practical substance in the call to mobilize the White intelligentsia and the Black ghetto as a new proletariat. The ideological continuity that Rufo portrays leading up to the Black Lives Matter street revolution, the spread of racial ideology in public education and the rise of the “diversity, equity and inclusion” bureaucracy is more than anything else in the eye of the beholder. My experience tells me that, while not entirely giving up hope for social betterment, our generation took its distance from these next waves and often called out their weaknesses despite the pressure of political correctness.

I am thus not persuaded that a movement bringing “dizzying” cultural changes that have swept across the United States has captured America’s institutions. Nevertheless, it is important to read and understand Rufo’s argument, since it synthesizes and deepens what every one of a hundred million Americans believes. Rufo’s imagined reader understands intuitively that “appeals to a new system of governance based on diversity, equity, and inclusion are a pretense for establishing a political order that is hostile to his values, even if he does not yet possess the vocabulary to pierce through the shell of euphemism and describe its essence.”

The aspiration of America’s Cultural Revolution, as Rufo puts it, is to open his eyes. It is to reveal the nature of the critical theories, to establish the facts about the new ideological regime and to prepare the grounds for revolting against it. It should also open our eyes as to what lies beneath the support for Trump, DeSantis et al., and the challenge of taking it on.

A tyrannical FBI?

Perhaps the best indicator of how people Rufo seeks to mobilize think is their attitude toward the FBI, until recently the most respected institution among patriotic Americans. Only 17 per cent of Republicans view it positively. At a hearing of the Judiciary Committee of the House of Representatives last July 12, various Republicans issued demands to “defund the FBI” (Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene of Georgia even sold T-shirts with the slogan). Below are excerpts from their questioning of Christopher Wray, the Trump-appointed head of the FBI, and before that senior political appointee in the George W. Bush Justice Department, clerk to a noted conservative judge and contributor to the Federalist Society:

Chair Jim Jordan (Ohio): “American speech is censored. Parents are called terrorists. Catholics are called radicals.”

Harriet Hageman (Wyoming): “You have personally worked to weaponize the FBI against conservatives.” The FBI is doing the “dirty work” of “mass censorship” to “suppress the First Amendment” as part of a supposed “two-tiered justice system that has been weaponized to persecute people.”

Mike Johnson (Louisiana): Your FBI “suppressed conservative-leaning free speech.”

Matt Gaetz (Florida): You are “protecting the Bidens”, “blissfully ignorant as to the Biden shakedown regime”, “whitewashing the conduct of corrupt people” and operating a “creepy personal snoop machine.”

Victoria Spartz (Indiana): You engage in “unlawful surveillance of American citizens, intimidation of American citizens … potential coverups of convenient political figures and potential setups of inconvenient political figures.”

Troy Nehls (Texas): The January 6 investigation is a “political witch hunt against the greatest president in my lifetime … more concerned about searching for and arresting grandma and grandpa for entering the Capitol building that day than pursuing the sick individuals in our society who prey on our children.”

Chip Roy (Texas): A “tyrannical FBI storming the home of an American family.”

Dan Bishop (North Carolina): The FBI is the “agent of a foreign power.”

Tom Tiffany (Wisconsin): The FBI “interfered with the elections in both 2016 and 2020.”

Image via FinnishGovernment, Wikimedia Commons

As I began to write this article, which argues that Finland today constitutes the best expression of the Nordic model, I received a discouraging note from a Finnish friend. A new government had finally been formed almost two months after the April election. The negotiations resulted in what he described as Finland’s most conservative government since the war, dominated by the centre-right Conservatives and the right-wing, nationalist Finns Party. It planned to restrict the rights of immigrants, downplay the green transformation, make it harder to strike and easier to sack employees, tighten criteria for most social benefits and increase police and military budgets while reducing development aid by a third.

Was my friend, a longtime activist with the Finnish Left Alliance, justified in his fears that this could constitute a Zeitewende, a turning point away from the Nordic model? So far, there is no indication that, although it is tightening the rules, the new government is challenging this country of 5.6 million people’s expectation of receiving high-quality universal public services. What its program does call into question is the inclusiveness of the model – its welcoming and integrating newcomers. However, recent events suggest that such a turnaround is unlikely.

The election result was unexpected. For the sixth straight year, Finland was designated the world’s happiest country by the UN Sustainable Development Solutions Network. For several decades, election outcomes have reflected overall popular satisfaction, producing oversized multiparty coalitions transcending right-left polarization. The expected outcome of the spring election was thus of outgoing Prime Minister Sanna Marin’s Social Democratic Party leading another such coalition. But it was not to be. Unexpectedly, the surging Finns won more votes than the Social Democrats (20.1 versus 19.9 per cent), making it possible for the Conservatives (who came in first with 20.8 per cent) to look to their right for a coalition partner.

This development is all the more disappointing since in the last decade, Finland had been replacing Sweden as the fullest incarnation of the Nordic model. In Sweden, criminality surged in the wake of the uncontrolled opening of its doors to migrants between 2013 and 2015. This brought a backlash in the form of the rise of the anti-immigration Sweden Democrats, who won more than 20 per cent of the vote in 2022 and are now influential in the policies of the Conservative-led government.

Especially given the closeness of the vote, I am hesitant to see in the recent election results a parallel development in Finland. Finland is not like Sweden. To see this, we need to take a brief look back at Finland’s unique past. But first let us draw from a recent detailed analysis of the election campaign and results by Kimmo Grönlund and Kim Strandberg.1

No questioning of democracy

After finishing first in the election of 2019, the Social Democratic Party (SDP) formed a coalition government with the Centre Party, the Green League, the Left Alliance and the Swedish People’s Party (SFP). The three left-green parties were ideologically coherent and their cooperation in government went smoothly, as was the case with the SFP, which habitually works with coalition governments, left and right. This was not the case for the more conservative Centre Party, which forced Antti Rinne, who had led the SDP to the 2019 election victory, to resign after less than six months in office. Sanna Marin was chosen to replace him as SDP leader and proved a popular Prime Minister.

In the 2023 election campaign, the main opposition parties, the Conservative National Coalition Party and the populist, right-wing Finns Party took the initiative and came in first and second, slightly above the SDP. The SDP in fact gained votes over 2019 as a result of Marin’s popularity, but at the expense of its smaller coalition partners. Thus, unexpectedly, the Finns found themselves in a coalition with the Conservatives.

Interestingly, according to Finnish researcher Fredrik Malmberg, overall trust in political institutions actually rose compared to 2019. On a ten-point scale,

The lowest level of trust in both the current and the previous surveys can be found for politicians (x̄=5.39) and political parties (x̄=5.49), where responsibility becomes more personified compared to institutions such as the parliament (x̄=6.48) and the government (x̄=6.62) … The highest level of trust can be found for the president (x̄=8.41) … (who) does not partake in the same way in daily politics … The European Union has been the least trusted institution in previous FNES studies (x̄=4.95 in 2015 and 5.09 in 2019), but average trust levels were significantly higher (x̄=6.00 in 2019 and 6.21 in 2023) … a development argued to be a consequence of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.2

Nothing in the vote suggested any questioning of democracy, with 96 per cent of the respondents expressing a preference for a democratic type of governance in Finland. Support for liberal democracy was confirmed when the Finns faced a challenge to their participation soon after the new government was formed.

First, Economy Minister Vilhelm Junnila was forced to resign over repeated references to Adolf Hitler and the Nazis on social media and in campaign ads, which he described as jokes. Then, an old blog post was made public in the Finnish media in which the (then anonymous) Finns leader Riikka Purra – Finance Minister in the new government – wrote, “If I was given a gun, there’d be corpses” after a child of migrant background had mimicked shooting her with his fingers. Purra apologized for making inappropriate comments in the past, but added that the media took many statements out of context, exaggerated and misquoted others and failed to recognize sarcasm.

The government was forced to issue a statement affirming strong support for human rights and equality. Prime Minister Petteri Orpo said, “Every minister in the government will renounce racism and commit to active work against racism in Finland and internationally.” Purra added that “I and the Finns Party and everyone else will stand behind this announcement as a whole.” These statements reassured the centrist Swedish People’s Party, which had contemplated leaving the coalition.

Something deeper than election results

I first went to Finland in 1991 for a four-month research visit based in Turku/Åbo on its southwestern coast and returned to teach on several occasions afterward. This was just as the Soviet empire was coming apart. Unlike neutral Sweden, which emerged strengthened after World War II, Finland found itself much weakened and vulnerable. After signing the Nonaggression Pact with Germany in August 1939, the USSR sent troops into Finland and captured the eastern province of Karelia. The Finns attempted to regain the territory from Russia when Hitler invaded the Soviet Union in 1941, but after heavy losses Finland was forced to accept a costly peace in 1944. It suffered further losses in joining the war against German troops in the north.

When World War II gave way to the Cold War, Finland had no choice but to be bound by an agreement with the USSR that imposed strict neutrality on its foreign policy. It was only in 1995, after the demise of the USSR, that Finland was able to join the European Union, and now, with the Russian invasion of Ukraine, to seek and gain admission to NATO.

My first arrival coincided with a challenging time for Finland. With the disintegration of the USSR, Finland had to overcome its dependence on Soviet markets, which it did by developing a world-class system of research and development, first through its high-tech “champion” Nokia. There were hard times again after 2007 when Nokia lost its dominant position in communications systems. But once again, Finland proved resilient.

One manifestation of that resilience was that Finland was able to react to the COVID-19 pandemic faster and better than most countries. As the OECD noted, “The Finnish government’s effective crisis management has mitigated the shocks.”3 It hasn’t been easy: it’s hard to replace the jobs and incomes of workers in cities dominated by a company, typically a paper mill, in a declining industry. The OECD recently shifted its prediction of a full economic recovery from 2022 and 2023 to 2024.4

Weighed down for decades by reparations to Russia, Finland went through struggles that gave rise to a wide and durable consensus in support of the welfare state. One manifestation of that consensus, according to the World Bank, is that Finland ties wealthier Norway and Denmark for the lowest level of income inequality among Western countries. (As I was writing this, I came across a report that on June 7, 2023, “A multimillionaire businessman has been hit with a fine of 121,000 euros for driving 30km/h over the limit in Finland, where tickets are calculated as a percentage of the offender’s income.”)

Finnish women were for decades the most educated in Europe; as early as 1907 a third of university students were women. Only about 10 per cent of candidates who apply to primary teacher studies are accepted. In its measure of educational performance in 2019, the OECD’s PISA study found that Finnish 15-year-olds remained near the top in reading literacy and math, far surpassing the other Nordics. Finland now ranks first for media literacy among 35 European countries.

These are expressions of something deeper than election results. Finland’s economy is characterized by openness and transparency. Tolerance of corruption is minimal. Modern Finnish architecture, in its concert halls, churches and museums, is internationally respected. Finland is close to carbon neutral, as a result of its history, its location, its land ownership rules and its renewable forests – an embarrassing comparison to Canada.

The invasion of Ukraine drove many thousands out of Russia, a large number of whom crossed into Finland. Clearly, the uncertainty as to just who was coming and for what purpose – which led to the construction of a fence – has something to do with the Finns Party surge. All things considered, I suggest that the election results can best be understood as an immediate response to ongoing developments. We should not bury the Finnish model just yet.

The Finnish electoral system

The polarization and instability of Finnish politics in the last century has been replaced by consensus and government stability under “surplus majority coalitions.”

Elections to the Finnish national parliament take place on the third Sunday of April every fourth year. The 200 seats in the Eduskunta in the last election were distributed in 13 districts including the single-member district of the autonomous Åland Island. Despite the candidate-centred electoral system, the Finnish parliament is characterized by a high level of intraparty voting cohesion, particularly among the government coalition parties.

Small parties often form alliances at the constituency level in the small districts. Alliances are generally considered purely strategic and do not involve a joint political agenda. A party can form alliances with different parties across constituencies or run independently in some districts while forming strategic alliances in others.

The aspect that makes the Finnish system stand out in comparison with most other proportional representation systems is that the fully open list makes it is impossible for parties or constituency organizations to guarantee the election to parliament of any individual candidate. Preferential voting is mandatory: to cast a vote, all voters are obliged to choose one candidate from a fairly large selection of aspirants. The sole criterion in determining the party internal ranking of candidates is the number of preference votes each candidate receives. Most parties present candidates in alphabetical order on the lists.

Decentralized nomination procedures empower the local and district levels at the expense of the central party organizations, and the pooling of votes provides parties with incentives to field a diverse set of candidates who are faced with the delicate balance of trying to maximize the collective party vote while simultaneously engaging in intraparty rivalry. And voters are overloaded with information from both a party-centred campaign at the national level and individualized candidate campaigns at the district level. Nevertheless, the system enjoys a high level of legitimacy at all levels.

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