
Messrs Mamdani and Trump cordially loathe each other, correctly sensing that their political views are incompatible.
However, they are dizygotic, if not identical, twins in one key aspect that’s more significant than things like raising or cutting taxes. Both are populists, although they appeal to different segments of the populorum.
Populism has many definitions, but I use it in the sense of going over the head of traditional institutions to derive power directly from popular support.
I see this as a fatal flaw regardless of any short-term gains, and the flaw is systemic because it points not to the abuse of the existing political arrangement, but to its congenital defects. Moreover, these defects were already known 2,500 years ago, but then no one has ever accused people of heeding the lessons taught by either sages or history.
Both Plato and especially Aristotle identified the three core political systems: monarchy, aristocracy and democracy. None, they warned, was going to succeed in its unadulterated form.
If their purity is intransigently maintained, a monarchy will turn into a tyranny, an aristocracy into an oligarchy, and democracy into an ochlocracy, mob rule. For a political arrangement to last, and for justice to thrive, a state must combine the elements of all three known forms of government.
Their faithful and undeservedly maligned disciple, Machiavelli, repeated that thought in his Discourses, published posthumously in 1531. That’s why, he added, the synthetic constitution of Lycurgus lasted longer in Sparta than the purely democratic constitution of Solon in Athens – this, though the latter was more virtuous.
Instead of a monarchy, Machiavelli talked about a principality, but that’s only a semantic nuance. Where he deviated from the Greeks substantively was in his interpretation of mob rule which he saw as anarchy, a total disintegration of governance.
However, hindsight vindicates the Greeks’ view: our modern democracy produces a different, perhaps even more sinister, form of ochlocracy. The empowered mob turns into what Tocqueville called a tyrannical majority. It then holds the government beholden to its tyranny, rendering the state itself tyrannical in the mob’s own image.
Now I’m on a name-dropping binge, allow me to drop another one: Edmund Burke. Writing towards the end of the 18th century, Burke insisted that MPs should be people’s representatives, not their delegates. Once elected to the Commons, they should act according to the people’s interests even when these don’t coincide with their wishes.
That deep idea hasn’t aged well. It’s contingent on two essential premises, both of which pertained in Burke’s time, but neither does in modernity.
We no longer have politicians able to identify people’s interests and how best to serve them, especially when such interests diverge from their own. And nor do we have a population ready to have its wishes ignored because it trusts elected officials to serve its interests.
Burkean democracy couldn’t survive contact with the Enlightenment ethos of equality. The balance of monarchy, aristocracy and democracy that existed in Burke’s time, and was hailed as ideal by the Greeks, was obliterated in modernity.
British democracy was aristocratic in the 18th century, in that franchise was limited, and powerful aristocrats could affect the results of elections by influencing their tenants to vote for their preferred candidate. The Reform Acts of the 19th century expanded the franchise, but in the early 20th century women and about a third of all men still didn’t qualify to vote.
The idea of one vote for each man, woman and increasingly child was still seen as an indigestible pie in the sky. However, when the Enlightenment injected the egalitarian venom into politics, England held out longer than, say, France and America.
Since both the French and American republics are constituted on Enlightenment principles, they have no in-built restraints to prevent galloping egalitarianism from riding roughshod over mixed government. Add a measure of egalitarian passion to democracy, and neonatal socialism will steadily grow to maturity, weaned on the poisoned milk of the deadly sins.
Aristotle defined a just society as one in which the people accept inequalities as a necessary factor of the common good. But today’s ochlocrats no longer wish to accept any inequalities, which is why they’ll stamp out all vestiges of a just society.
Power mechanisms designed to counterbalance democracy by competing with it either fall by the wayside or else become artifacts, relics of the past nostalgically kept on the collective mantelpiece but no longer used.
Both Britain and the US pay lip service to division of power, but in reality power in both countries is becoming less and less divided, if at different speeds. People’s votes, often only surveyed and not even yet cast, hold sway. Only those politicians come to the fore who can successfully put blocs of voters together by pandering to their wishes or at least promising to do so.
Since public education in both countries ill-prepares the electorate to understand where its true interests lie, people’s knees jerk this way or that, and they insist that their wildest demands be met – or else.
At the same time, political egalitarianism is good at churning out demagogues ready to make any promise likely to garner more votes. It’s not so good at producing statesmen capable of acting on Burke’s prescriptions, or indeed understanding them. Today’s politicians are more likely to sweep the aforementioned mementos off the mantelpiece, watch those institutional relics smash to smithereens, and then start an unmediated dialogue with the rampaging mob.
However, the mob isn’t united in its demands. It’s divided into two large groups, each subdivided into smaller ones. This is caused by the siren song of socialism, sung by the mob, heard by the state and rendering both insane.
The promises of socialism add up to a clinical picture of madness, which precludes uniformity. Some people are mad enough to believe and cherish those promises; some are still sane enough not to.
Since no compromise between madness and sanity is possible, the two groups drift wider and wider apart, with neither, however, ready to relinquish its power. Hence politicians, who are at the beck and call of public whims, also have to split into two groups, each listening intently to the rumblings of opinion within its part of the mob.
Not every member of it can speak though, at least not loudly enough to make himself heard. We all like to talk about public opinion, but there is really no such thing. The only thing that exists is the loudmouthed opinion of the more impassioned and hence extreme faction within each group.
As a result, politics inevitably becomes more radicalised at both levels: the mob and its servile government. This is observable on both sides of the political divide – the irrational and relatively rational people begin to see one another as implacable enemies.
Power passes from one group to the other at more or less regular intervals, but overall it never escapes the mob’s clutches. Whatever little is left of traditional institutions is crushed in its tightening grip.
Whichever group screams its wishes more loudly gets to push its figurehead into government. The sub-mob of crazed Left-wing egalitarians has prevailed in New York City and Britain, the other sub-mob, that of more rational zealots, in the US federal government and Italy.
But the two together add up precisely to what Aristotle et al. saw as a great evil: ochlocracy, mob rule. Those really sane if silent individuals who hope for a return to a civilised political normality should stop their reveries. Once the Rubicon has been crossed, there is no going back.
When you flip a coin, you get either heads or tails – but you don’t get two separate coins. The coin remains one, and it doesn’t matter if one side of it shows Mamdani and the other Trump. The madness of ochlocracy will continue to rend the world asunder, that’s what populism is all about.








