Trump 2.0: Not a fluke, but a harbinger of a new order

Donald Trump's return marks a shift from the fluke of 2017 to the birth pangs of a new global order, posing a serious challenge for our European model

Donald Trump's first day in office was characterised by an avalanche of odious executive orders
Donald Trump's first day in office was characterised by an avalanche of odious executive orders

There were no major surprises on Donald Trump’s first day in office characterised by an avalanche of odious executive orders. He unleashed the carnage he had promised: withdrawal from climate commitments and a pledge to drill more oil and gas, withdrawal from the World Health Organization, threats against sovereign nations like Panama, the interruption of legal migration channels from Latin America, and a transphobic executive order mandating that official documents—including passports, visas, and Global Entry cards which “accurately reflect the holder’s sex.”

That first day showed that the American strongman means business. This time, it feels so much different than in 2017. Back then, his inauguration seemed like a fluke—a passing moment destined to fail, something the world had to endure for four years.  Within the US it was something which could be resisted and thwarted from within the system, even from within the bowels of the Republican Party, and ultimately voted out. After all, he didn’t even enjoy a popular mandate. Boring normality could be restored in due course. And that’s exactly what happened in 2020.

Perhaps here lies the root of the problem: the Biden-led Democrats offered a return to sobriety but failed to recognise that people were craving a new era. They had grown tired of neoliberalism and the perceived loss of control over their daily lives.

Now, it feels different. Trump has ushered in a new era—not just for the US, but for the world. Sure, he can be credited with convincing Netanyahu to accept a ceasefire in Gaza as an inauguration gesture, but the Palestinians risk being forgotten as Trump pursues the grand prize: a deal between Saudi Arabia and Israel. And while Trump advocates isolation from the world and speaks of peace, he openly supports other disruptors in a bid to weaken supranational institutions, leaving individual states at his mercy—or that of other strongmen.

Ominously, he is carving out his own sphere of influence, restoring the Monroe Doctrine, which treats neighbouring countries as his backyard. Designating brutal drug cartels as terrorists may sound appealing, but it could presage US intervention in Mexico—a proudly sovereign nation whose leader, Sheinbaum Pardo, is likely to stand her ground.

His talk of peace rings hollow because a world where rival strongmen claim spheres of influence is inherently dangerous. Anybody who has studied history knows that. If Trump claims Panama what stops China from claiming Taiwan and Russia claiming Kiev?

But the greatest fear is that Trump is writing the most important chapter in the obituary of planet Earth. His withdrawal from the Paris Agreement was expected, but the celebratory tone he adopted is even more worrying. “We’re going to save over a trillion dollars by withdrawing from that treaty,” he said, repeating the “drill, baby, drill” rallying cry. Condemning millions to climate apocalypse doesn’t matter to Trump. What matters is opening new sea ways and claiming resources in the Arctic.

So, what should the rest of the world do while Rome burns? Unlike in 2017, when European democracies rallied behind centrist figures like Angela Merkel, the temptation now is to accept the new normal. The fear of retribution is also palpable. While US interference in allied states’ elections is nothing new (as during the Cold War in Italy), open support for far-right figures like Tommy Robinson by the likes of Elon Musk is ominous.

Sure, Trump is now a reality, and engaging with him is inevitable. But just as bear-hug diplomacy failed with Netanyahu, it will fail with Trump, who only understands the language of strength and power. In Europe, there is no strength without unity.

Trump cannot be wished out of existence. It is inevitable that he will seek to bypass stronger entities like the European Union by promoting petty nationalisms in Europe. It is easier for him to deal with weaker, exposed nation-states. Some may try to play the transactional game, but in doing so, they risk undermining their own sovereignty.

The current Labour government in Malta cannot ignore that Trump represents much of what it has struggled against, including his regressive stance on LGBTIQ rights and his disregard for the sovereignty of small states. Ian Borg’s presence at Trump’s inauguration suggests a willingness to engage with the new US administration, which is understandable for a small island state. However, we must not forget that in a world increasingly dominated by strongmen, the European Union remains our only safety net.

Faced with a destabilising threat, the European Union and the UK must respond by speaking with one common, assertive voice while reaching out to global democracies like Canada, Brazil, Mexico, and South Africa to offer leadership on existential threats like climate change and pandemics. 

This will not be easy. If EU leaders continue to ignore the factors that led to Trump’s triumph—namely dissatisfaction with the neoliberal order, austerity and the perception of lost control—they risk being replaced by Trump-like figures closer to home.

Sure, these figures exploit and magnify irrational fears, but the only antidote is the ability to dream of another world.

The world has surely seen darker days, but for Europe, no period was more promising than the post-war recovery that saw the emergence of a vibrant social democratic model which married democracy to the welfare state. It is time to reclaim that tradition to fight back.