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4 hours ago
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Seldom in recent history has class war been waged so blatantly. Generally, billionaires and hectomillionaires employ concierges to attack the poor on their behalf. But now, freed from shame and embarrassment, they no longer hide their involvement. In the US, the world’s richest man, Elon Musk, will lead the federal assault on the middle and working classes: seeking to slash public spending and the public protections defending people from predatory capital.
He shares responsibility for the Department of Government Efficiency with another billionaire, Vivek Ramaswamy. They have been recruiting further billionaires to oversee cuts across government. These plutocrats will not be paid. They will wage their class war pro bono, out of the goodness of their hearts.
Musk, with a fortune of more than $400bn (£330bn), has warned: “We have to reduce spending to live within our means.” But he doesn’t mean “we”, he means you. Trump and Musk want to cut the federal budget so they can slash taxes for the ultra-rich. This benighted class needs all the help it can get. Since 2020, the wealth of the 12 richest men in the US has risen by a mere 193%. Collectively, the poor dears now own only $2tn.
Musk’s stated aims may be impossible to realise. When he took the role, he claimed he would cut the $6.75tn in federal spending by $2tn, which is actually more than the entire discretionary budget. But the intention is clear: a contraction whose consequences would be devastating for most Americans. Trump’s election was a response to the cruel failures of neoliberalism, but it will also be their ultimate expression. It was a response to the corruption of the political system by private money. And it will be the system’s ultimate corruption.
If Musk’s programme succeeds, we hardly have to imagine its impacts on human life and the living world, because for the past year a similar plan has been enacted in Argentina. There, Javier Milei has been waging his class war on behalf of international capital. The results include a horrifying surge in poverty; a collapse in the number of people with health insurance, coupled with critical underfunding of the public health system; proliferating hate crimes; a coordinated assault on science and environmental protection; and a free-for-all for the foreign corporations hoping to seize the country’s minerals, land and labour.
In the US, the motherfrackers will be released to do as they please. Trump’s nominated energy secretary, Chris Wright, runs a fracking services company and claims: “There is no climate crisis.” Already, banks and corporations are gleefully tearing up their environmental commitments.
The massive programme of cuts and deregulation that Musk and Ramaswamy seek extends the sadomasochistic politics now ascendant on both sides of the Atlantic. Demagogues have found that it doesn’t matter how much their followers suffer, as long as their designated enemies are suffering more. If you can keep ramping up the pain for scapegoats (primarily immigrants), voters will thank you for it, regardless of their own pain. This is the great discovery of the conflict entrepreneurs, led by Musk himself: what counts in politics is not how well people are doing, but how well they are doing in relation to designated out-groups.
There are plenty of willing executioners. One of the convicted ringleaders of the Southport riots in the UK, which were encouraged by Elon Musk, was described after his sentencing as “a man so consumed with hate and violence that he could find little satisfaction in activities that did not immediately quench his desire for harming others”. Maga fanatics, whipped up by the frenzy of hatred on X and other pro-Trump media, might gain nothing from Trump’s presidency except the satisfaction of inflicting pain. But this small prize is sufficient to ensure their absolute loyalty. It will induce them to commit any atrocity Trump demands.
Why has the class war been unleashed now, not just in the US, but in much of the rest of the world? Because the democratising, distributive effects of two world wars have worn off. We fondly imagine that the semi-democratic era (exemplified in rich nations by the years 1945–1975) is the normal state of politics. But it was highly atypical, and made possible only by the wars’ erosion of the power of the ruling classes. The default state of centralised societies, to which nations are now reverting, is oligarchy.
In the 20th century, we called this reversion fascism. Fascism possessed some grotesque and peculiar features of its own. It used new tools and modes of organisation. But in key respects it represented a revival of the pre-democratic order: a world in which absolute power was vested in kings and emperors and their courts. We can endlessly debate whether or not Trump and his acolytes are fascists, as if that somehow solves the problem. It is more useful to recognise them as representatives of a much longer tradition, of which fascism was just one iteration. The emperors are back.
Because Trump and Musk are such volatile characters, it’s tempting to imagine that their grip on power will be chaotic and contingent. But the billionaire class will move swiftly to consolidate the oligarchy, and will meet almost no resistance. US institutions, the established media and foreign governments are completely unprepared. Despite copious warnings over many years, they know only how to appease oligarchic power, not how to resist it.
I started using the term “anticipatory compliance” in 2008 to describe the media’s kowtowing to undemocratic forces. The man who coined the phrase, Bruce Dover, explained to me that “an emperor who inspires fear in his followers need not raise a hand against them”. Now, wherever in institutional life we might hope to find resistance, we see obedience, even before Trump has taken power. Almost everyone instinctively accommodates the new dispensation.
In nations that have not yet fully succumbed to oligarchy we need to recognise, and recognise fast, that democratic politics do not emerge spontaneously. Our systems achieve a quasi-democratic character only with an active citizenry, whose engagement is largely defined by protest, and an independent media. But, at the direct behest of capital, governments are criminalising peaceful protest, while many independent media, such as the BBC, shut out dissenting voices.
If governments like the UK’s are to invest in their own survival, they must free their citizens to rebuild democracy, and we must seize every opportunity to do so. There is no demilitarised zone in this class war. We must all decide where we stand.
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George Monbiot is a Guardian columnist
